Wayward Sons
by nolandsman
Summary: Lloyd's father had always been distant. But when he is suddenly attacked and abducted, Lloyd must navigate the twisted and often cruel world on his own if he ever wants to see him again. A retelling of the events of TofS if Lloyd were raised by Kratos.
1. Kratos

_For R—,_  
_To whom I wanted to show this, but who died before I could. You're an angel too cool for Cruxis. Rest in peace while you can, because when I catch up to you, there will be only partying.  
_

Lloyd had a father who never slept. At least, not that he'd seen. Every night, at some inn or another, he'd watch his father stare out the window for hours, until sleep took him, and by the morning his ever-vigilant dad would shake him awake. Years passed like this, until Lloyd had given up even trying to find out what his father did while he slept. Shortly after he stopped wondering, he was sent away to school.

His school was a boys' academy in Palmacosta, presumably for gifted children, and Lloyd figured that his dad must've paid a boatload in order to keep a dope like him enrolled. All so the old man could shrug him off for eight months of the year to go do more important things. Important things he would constantly refuse to divulge.

Lloyd assumed this summer would be like the rest—his father would come pick him up, drag him halfway around the continent while periodically abandoning him at an inn in some backwoods hick town, only to show up days later with no explanation as to where he went and why. Summers made Lloyd almost enjoy school.

He sat on the marble steps of the academy, wiggling his toes, until his only friend squeaked through the front doors and sat down beside him, dropping his oversized backpack on the steps.

"Hey, Lloyd." Genis was the only one that called him by his name. He'd had to enroll in the academy under a fake one, for "safety reasons," according to his father, who also failed to disclose what those safety reasons were. He'd told Genis to call him Lloyd, pretending that was his middle name or nickname—Lloyd couldn't remember the excuse he made up at the time; all he remembered was that he was lonely enough to risk his safety to have someone call him by his real name.

"Hey, Genis," he said. "Isn't your sister coming to pick you up?"

"Nah. She has this thing with boats—she makes me catch a ship all the way back to Iselia every summer. I don't see why I just can't stay there for the school year. I mean, she's the teacher, she could make it as hard as she wanted." He took his omnipresent kendama from his pocket and began to fool around with it.

"My dad has dragged me to some backwater holes," Lloyd said, "and believe me, Genis, you would never fit in."

Genis was far too intelligent to survive in some of the small villages Lloyd had visited. Besides, the kid was an elf, and you never knew what rural towns had misconceived discrimination laws regarding other races.

Lloyd didn't know why Genis had taken a liking to him—it seemed the kid should prefer cleverer company. Perhaps it was because Lloyd was the only other boy at the school who didn't pick on him. Lloyd guessed it was because he was the only one that didn't see Genis as a threat, as a curve-ruiner, as a destroyer of grades. Lloyd was always at the bottom of the curve anyway—Genis' score couldn't really do much to make his marks any lower.

Genis tucked away his kendama, straightened his uniform and hoisted his pack. "When will your dad get here?" he asked.

Lloyd shrugged.

"Well, my boat's leaving in half an hour. Be careful this summer. I heard the Desian quota's not full for the season, so they'll be picking up anyone they can. So don't do anything stupid. Or dangerous. I suppose that's like asking water to not be wet."

Lloyd smiled. "You be careful, too."

He watched his friend's back disappear into the city's bustle, then lay back on the steps and counted the clouds. Other students filed out, carrying suitcases, bags, and books for summer studying. Each stepped past Lloyd without noticing him, and they disappeared into their respective alleyways, harbors and houses. Lloyd stared at the sky until the sun touched the lower ramparts governor-general's mansion at the other end of the square. Perhaps he'd have to stay here tonight, until his father would suddenly remember he had a son waiting in Palmacosta.

Lloyd was meticulously deciding what he'd order for dinner that night at the inn when he felt himself being hoisted from the academy's front steps. It took him a moment to realize that his dad was there, suddenly dragging him across the square like they had someplace important to be.

"I'm glad you're safe," was all his father said between the academy doors and the city's gate.

"I don't know why I wouldn't be," Lloyd answered, but got no reply. Instead, his father presented him with a traveling cloak, weathered and hooded, and ordered him to make sure his head was covered. "So, where are we going for this year's holiday?" Lloyd asked. "Hima? Umacy? A ditch a thousand miles from civilization? A—oh, hey boy! Who's a good boy?" Noishe, the family dog, greeted them a few yards from the city gate. His father's arrival inevitably heralded the arrival of Noishe, which offset some of Lloyd's gloom. He wasn't sure he could survive his dad without the dog present.

Lloyd's previous question was, as usual, ignored. "How's your friend? Jean?"

"Genis. He's fine. He went back to his village. You know the Chosen lives there?"

"Humph."

They walked a few miles in complete silence. Every so often Lloyd would turn around to see the city shrinking into the horizon, and wondered if he would make it back for the next school year. "So, where are we going?" he said. "Or am I not allowed to ask."

His father remained silent for a few moments, staring at the road ahead. "We're going to Tethe'alla."

"What? All right! Finally!" Lloyd had heard stories about the fabled world of prosperity, all from his father, but he had been strictly forbidden to speak about it to anyone, even Genis. So the land of Tethe'alla built up inside him like any good secret would—he had gone there thousands of times in his head, visited its cities and people, gone on fantastical adventures and always returned some sort of hero.

"Shh!"

Lloyd's smile vanished—for a split second he thought his buzzkill dad was just trying to get him to curb his enthusiasm, but when he found himself being dragged to the side of the road into the bushes, he knew it was something a little more serious. Noishe crouched in the undergrowth beside them, and they watched as three figures approached from the east. Lloyd could recognize their helmets as Desian from miles away.

He tried not to breathe, and hoped for a second that they had not seen them throw themselves off the road, but one of the helmets shouted at them to come out.

"Don't say anything," Lloyd's father told him as they slowly emerged from their hiding place.

"Shouldn't you folks be back in Palmacosta?" one of them asked.

"Maybe they escaped from the ranch," another suggested, playing with the tip of his whip.

"They do seem to be itching to get there."

"We'd be no good," Lloyd heard his father say in a heavily accented drone. "My nephew there is deaf, and I have a bad back. We'd be no good. No good."

"Then perhaps you'd like to compensate us for our effort? We have a long way to go until Palmacosta."

Lloyd screamed inwardly. He knew his father could take them out, all three, effortlessly. So why was he...?

His dad reached into his pack and pulled out a small bag of money. Wordlessly he handed it over, and Lloyd bit his lip so hard he was sure it bled. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and his face burned in embarrassment. Of all the bullies to suck up to, it had to be these guys.

The first Desian juggled the bag and frowned. "You know, you don't look like you have that bad of a back. It looks to me like it works just fine."

Another sack of money, larger this time, was produced from a hidden pocket and handed over. "You drive a steep bargain," the Desian said, "but I accept. Next time I won't be so generous."

The three soldiers continued in the direction of the city, but not before one of them decided to give Lloyd a good kick in the back. He flew into the dirt, winded, and scrambled upward, fists ready, only to have his father grab him and hold him back. His antagonists chuckled. "Better keep your halfwit in check, old man," one of them called before all three slipped around the bend.

When Lloyd's breathing slowed and his fists loosened, his father let him go. "Leave them," he commanded, and Lloyd had no choice but to follow him and Noishe down the road. "Do you have any money?"

"Yeah." Lloyd had saved up a little from doing manual labor at the academy—apparently the only thing he was good at. He had planned to get himself a glorious dinner at the Palmacosta inn, but it looked like he'd have to forfeit his earnings so they could stay at the House of Martel that night.

"Good. Keep it hidden."

Lloyd hadn't expected an apology, but part of him wished he'd got one. Not just for handing over the money—Lloyd could've forgiven his father for that. What he couldn't forgive was the fact that those Desians could've been whipped—easily, and yet his dad still chose to throw away his dignity anyway, not to mention his money. Lloyd didn't understand how he could muster the shamelessness to offer a bribe, but not the humility to apologize to his own son for doing so.

* * *

The House of Martel was grungy, unkempt, and offered very little when it came to meals—some watery soup and stale bread, but Lloyd wan't picky. Even the greasy leftovers at the Palmacosta academy's cafeteria, too much for some of the more delicate boys, never fazed him. He dragged his bread through the soup, trying to soak some of the staleness out of it, and nearly cracked his teeth biting into it. But it still filled his stomach like anything else, and for that, Lloyd was grateful.

His father, as usual, barely ate. He'd swirl his soup, making a show of eating, but Lloyd knew better. He didn't know how the man survived. "You gonna finish that?" he asked, and smiled when the nearly untouched meal was pushed to his side of the decrepit table. When Lloyd was finished eating for the both of them, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "So, how do we even get there?"

They both knew where he was talking about. His father looked like he was deeply contemplating whether he should answer or not. Lloyd was prepared not to get an explanation, but was happy when one came. "There are several ways. One of them is impossible. One is entirely dependent on the season and the stars. And the third will be open very soon. For now, we're going to Hima."

Hima wasn't Lloyd's least favorite place, but it wasn't a big hit with him either. It was still a long way, though, and when they arose early the next morning to begin the long trek, Lloyd was in a sour mood. That day they walked in silence until Hakenosia Peak, where he waited outside the gatekeeper's hut while his father negotiated passes for them. Lloyd figured he was probably beating the avaricious old fool to a pulp—or at least threatening to. I guess when it came to greedy business owners, he would mete out some justice, but when it came to real criminals, he would just suck up and let them walk all over him.

The embarrassing memory of the three Desians made Lloyd grit his teeth and only worsened his already bad mood. When his father emerged from the hut, passes in hand, he felt a poisonous feeling well up inside him. Noishe seemed to sense it too, and pushed his nose between Lloyd's arm and torso, forcing his hand to cup the dog's massive ear. He stroked it for a few seconds, thankful that he had someone as reasonable as Noishe around, and followed his father up the hill.

It got dark before they reached the peak, so they trudged a little off the path and set up a fire and their bedrolls. Lloyd found some long sticks for sword practice, brought them to his father, was rejected, and then had to go find some more. When the sticks he had procured were finally approved, Lloyd was thoroughly thrashed, then berated for not trying hard enough. That was all standard procedure when it came to training. Lloyd nursed his bruised arms by the fire while his father cooked up what looked to be some mystery meat soup.

"Why don't you let me use a real sword?" Lloyd asked.

"Because you're not ready to have one."

"The academy at least lets me use practice swords. Not just some dumb sticks."

"You need to learn that you can fight with anything. It'll keep you a lot safer when you don't have a weapon."

"The only reason I don't have a weapon is because you don't let me carry one! You never even use yours!" Somehow Lloyd found himself standing up, taking his father's silence as an invitation to continue. "I mean, do you like it when we get robbed? Do you like it when we get kicked around and have to hide? I know you can defend yourself, I know I can too, but you're too much of a low-down coward to fight! Is that how mum died? You couldn't fight for her?" Caught up in his own rage, Lloyd kicked dirt onto the fire, into the soup and onto his father.

Before he could realize what he'd done he felt himself get knocked to the ground. A knee pinned him to the dirt, winding him. His left eye stung like all hell, and before he could raise his arms to defend himself he felt a fist strike his opposite cheek. Then, as quickly as he attacked, his father retreated, leaving Lloyd to sputter and cough in the dirt. Lloyd watched him go, slinking off into the shadows beyond the fire, without saying a word.

He curled on his side and stared at the fire, as Noishe, whimpering, crawled up beside him and burrowed his head into Lloyd's limp hand. After a few minutes of petting, when he felt a little better, he sat up. Ashamed but too hungry to pass it up, Lloyd reached out to the dirt-covered soup, removed it from the fire, and spooned it into his sore mouth. He ignored the irony taste of what was either soil or blood, and just told himself to be grateful he didn't have to chew. Each swallow hurt like a new bruise, and he felt himself reaching up to touch his swollen cheek or his split eyebrow every so often, wiping away whatever blood trickled into his eye.

By the time he had eaten his fill, his father returned, green leaves scrunched in his hand. He sat opposite Lloyd, never offering a word, and poured water into the small kettle he usually used for coffee. He lay what he had collected by the fire: three varieties of leaves, a dark flower, a small nut, a strip of thin bark. Lloyd watched him set the kettle on the fire, and then carefully peel the leaves from their stems, crack open the nut, and pull the orange pollen from the flower's stamen. When the water began to boil, in went the leaves, the bark, then after a few minutes, the pollen and granular contents of the nut. Then he pulled out a small, folded cloth from his pack and dropped it in the pot. After a few minutes, he removed the kettle from the fire and let it cool.

Noishe, now convinced the skirmish was safely over, curled by the fire and began to twitch, dreaming. Lloyd coughed into his hand as his father removed the cloth from the kettle, stepped over the sleeping animal, and sat down beside him. He silently began to wipe away the blood and dirt from Lloyd's cheeks, his eyes and mouth, then lay the cloth over his swollen eyebrow. Although still warm, the material felt cool and comforting, like ice on a sprain. An herbal aroma wafted from the soft cloth and into Lloyd's nose, sending a wave of relief through him. He felt his muscles relax, and the pain in his face gradually subsided. He yawned.

He knew that although both of them were too stubborn to offer a verbal apology, Lloyd's relaxed silence and his father's tender nursing marked the tacit forgiveness between them. Lloyd's eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned back on his bedroll. His father readjusted the warm cloth, drooped it over his forehead, and then he was asleep.

* * *

It hadn't always been like that, when all they did was exchange verbal or physical blows. Before he had been sent away to school, things were different. When he was little, his father took him everywhere and rarely let him out of his sight. Back then, his father was reasonable and kind, and so unlike the man he was now.

Shortly after his mother died, Lloyd had woken up alone from a nightmare. They had been staying at some inn or another, and when he found that he was alone in the moonlit room, he began to cry. Unlike other children, Lloyd had a habit of crying softly, discreetly, partly because he was afraid of crying in front of his father, and partly because he was taught that for his own safety, he shouldn't bring attention to himself.

But his father heard. Miraculously, he heard his tiny whimpers all the way from the inn's bar, sprinted up the stairs and kicked the door open, ale in one hand, book in the other, demanding to know if Lloyd was all right. Surprised and frightened by such a dramatic appearance, Lloyd began to cry in earnest, until his father came over and sat beside him, lighting the candle before he took his son onto his lap.

"I had a dream... about mum."

"We don't need to talk about her."

"Can I have some?" Lloyd pointed to the mug of ale on the bedside table.

His father laughed. "If you want. You won't like it. Next time, I'll bring you some hot mead."

Lloyd ignored his warnings and gulped some of the foam floating at the top, only to spit it out across his lap.

"I'll get you some water," his father said, but Lloyd grabbed his pant leg. He desperately didn't want to be left alone again.

"Read that to me," this time Lloyd pointed at the huge, bronze tome his dad had been sifting through for months.

"You won't like that, either."

"I don't care."

So his father lounged on the bed and took him in one arm, balanced the tome on his knee with the other, and began to read: "It is a matter of utmost importance, and indeed it is the only way to ensure successful forging of the ring, that the fires be fueled with sacred wood. One has several choices when considering procuring such wood. As it tends to grow the largest and most abundantly in the Ozette region, this would be the first choice if one wishes to acquire the finest specimens. However, land ownership laws in the region prevent independent logging. There are myriad legal processes one must endure when attempting to apply for a logging permit, the first of which involves composing a formal letter to the Royal Forestry Service to obtain written permission from the Tethe'allan monarch. Listed below are the various forms and procedures necessary in order to acquire a permit, all of which are subject to change..."


	2. The Tower

Lloyd groaned himself awake at the first light of dawn. He made the mistake of trying to rub sleep from his eyes, and the pain shook him upright. He couldn't see from his left eye—seems it had swollen shut. He groped around for the medicinal cloth from last night, found it, reapplied it to his aching face, but its potency had worn off. He looked with his one good eye to where his father was packing up, only to have something tossed to him. Being suddenly devoid of depth perception, he was unable to catch the thing as it hit him on the nose and dropped into his lap. It was a hard biscuit, pasted with something green and nasty-looking.

"Breakfast. Also, the spread is for the pain."

Lloyd found he couldn't bring himself to say thank you. The biscuit tasted like dirt, but it satiated his rumbling stomach and eased the pain in his face. He packed up his things, haunted by his own guilty silence. He should never have brought up his mother. He knew that was a surefire way to get smacked, or worse, but he always did. Why did he, especially at the worst times? No answer came.

For weeks, the answer still did not come. They travelled onward, Lloyd hanging his head behind his father, trudging along silently. They stopped in Asgard for a few days to resupply before setting off to Luin, then onto Hima. Lloyd estimated in those weeks he probably exchanged a hundred words with his dad, but every night without fail, they would spar, and he would lose, just like always. That seemed to suffice as communication, at least for the time being.

When they arrived in Hima, Lloyd perked up, his curiosity about Tethe'alla rekindled. When they were checked in at the inn, he decided to ask about it.

"So, when are we going?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

His father shot him a frozen glare, a look that never failed to silence him, and he said no more. Instead he threw himself on the bed and opened a book Genis had given him. You knew your holiday was boring when suddenly reading seemed to be the most interesting thing to do, but Lloyd thought the book was fine. It was obviously written with a younger audience than him in mind, but he enjoyed it anyway—he figured Genis thought it was right about at his level.

"What are you reading about?" his father asked, apparently his interest piqued by seeing his son acting so uncharacteristically scholarly.

"The Kharlan War."

"Oh. How is it?"

"I dunno. I'm not that far into it."

"Well, don't believe everything you read."

Lloyd thought that was an odd bit of advice, but the Kharlan War was so long ago and so far removed from his own life it didn't seem that real to begin with. He knew deep inside that Mithos the Hero was probably about as made-up as the sea monsters that the sailors in Palmacosta would go on about.

Lloyd read well into the evening, which must've been a first for him, but he was caught up in a narrative involving a particularly brutal massacre of humans at the hands of some half-elf rebels. Just reading about such injustice made him grip the edges of the book so hard he accidentally tore a page. When it was clear that continuing reading would jeopardize the safety of Genis' gift, he put the book down and went downstairs, where his father sat with his own book and a glass of ale.

"Order yourself some dinner," he said when Lloyd sat across from him. "You can have some mead if you'd like."

"Sure."

They ate in silence, but Lloyd boiled over with excitement at the prospect of visiting the prospering world. He must've been visibly twitching, since his father felt the need to curb his enthusiasm.

"Don't act so jittery."

"I can't help it, if we're going to—"

"Shh. You never know who'll be listening."

You're right, dad, I don't, Lloyd found himself thinking. That's because I'm not a paranoid old crazy.

His father leaned in. "But remember this. When the time comes, you're going to do exactly as I tell you. You're not going to question anything. You're not going to say anything. Do you hear me?"

Lloyd nodded, but he knew that when his dad became militant all of a sudden, something disastrous was bound to happen. Like having their money pilfered by Desian thugs.

"And Lloyd, if anything happens and we get separated, you know where we're to meet up?"

Lloyd nodded.

"In both worlds?"

Nod.

"Tell me the coordinates."

He did.

"Good. Don't act too excited. It's suspicious."

Lloyd couldn't help but smile at his old man's silly paranoia. If anything was going to get him excited, it was the prospect of leaving Sylvarant after all these boring years of school, punctuated only by boring trips with his dad out to the middle of nowhere to look for goddess-knows-what.

When he went to bed, he could barely sleep. He tried to imagine what Tethe'alla was like, but found it hard to. For one thing, his dad had once told him that there are no Desians there. No human ranches, no exsphere manufacturing plants. When Lloyd was little he went so far as to imagine that people never suffered or died there. He went so far as to imagine that that was where his mother went after she disappeared. At this age he knew better, but still, a tiny, irrational part of him wished it was so, that as soon as he got there he would see her again, and he would finally remember what she looked like. The comforting image of his mother put him to sleep, and she stayed in his dreams. When the next morning arrived, he tried to sleep in to keep her with him.

That afternoon the Tower of Salvation appeared in the distance. He and his father went to the top of the hill above the inn, where some schemer tried to sell them a dragon ride. They ignored him and stared at the huge, almost fragile-looking construction piercing the sky.

"That's our ticket, Lloyd."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"For the excitement to die down. They may be expecting us."

"They? Who's they?" Lloyd turned and found his father already heading down the hill toward the inn, and stumbled to catch up. "Hey, dad? Who?"

Lloyd, as usual, got no answer, and after years of these sorts of silences, he knew not to press the matter. It would arise when it would.

He couldn't sleep at all that night. His father stood hyper-vigilant at the window, watching the Tower as if it might get up and walk away any minute. Lloyd figured his dad was just as excited as he was, but was just opposed to showing it, much like he seemed to be opposed to showing any other sort of emotion. Lloyd turned on his side and tried his best to fall asleep, until he heard the door creak open, then shut again. He heard footsteps echo across the hall, down the stairs, and heard the inn's front door close gently.

A sudden panic enveloped Lloyd and wouldn't let go. The bastard was going to leave without him. He was going to abandon him, as he always did, right when something important was about to happen. That son of a bitch was going to go to Tethe'alla and leave him behind.

Not if Lloyd could help it.

As silently as he could, he crept out of bed, through the door and down the hall. Halfway down the stairs he realized he'd forgotten his jacket and shoes, but suddenly he didn't care. The goal was to catch up to his dad and give him a good uppercut to remind him not to leave his kid behind. Lloyd slipped out the door into the night, where Noishe decided to greet him.

"Shh, boy. Stay," he whispered, and the dog crept back under the inn's front deck.

He knew if his father's hypersensitive ears were to catch him now, it would all be over. He followed closely enough to know where his old man was going, trying not to breathe or make a sound. He soon found himself at the top of Hima's tallest hill, but his father was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had just disappeared into the sky.

Lloyd remembered that old guy trying to foist expensive dragon rides on unsuspecting tourists, and figured that his dad must've rented one of those. He poked around until he found the man sleeping in what seemed to be a stable built for cows, but which now housed a dozen or so scraggly, underfed dragons.

"Hey, you," Lloyd kicked him awake.

"What! Martel have mercy, what do you think you're doing, waking a man up at this hour?"

"Did someone just rent a dragon from you?"

"Of course not, no night rides allowed."

"Okay, did he steal one from you?"

The man looked over his scaly flock. "All accounted for here. You're crazy."

"I need one of those dragons. Now."

"Wait till morning, bub."

Lloyd couldn't wait till morning. He couldn't wait another second. The thought of his father flying to the other world without him, the world without suffering, enraged him. What if he never came back? What if he just left him here? What if, Martel forbid, he got to reunite with Lloyd's mother before him? No. One of those dragons was going to carry him to that tower.

The dragon man must've seen the fury in Lloyd's face, because he immediately gave in. "All right, but you have to pay extra to ride at night."

"How about I just let you live?" Lloyd said as he hoisted himself onto one of the lazy animals. It woke with a jerk and yawned deeply.

"That could work," the salesman whimpered. "But you'll owe me. You just wait till I get the cops involved."

"Eat me," Lloyd told him and nudged the dragon into the sky, toward the Tower.

* * *

The Tower of Salvation was remarkably quiet. There was nothing inside but a long, clear walkway, bathed in green light. It may not have been the creepiest place Lloyd had ever been, but it certainly was in the top three. He was afraid to make any noise, not just because his father would hear him, but because the eerie sacredness of the building itself seemed not to allow it. Since the Tower necessitated his absolute silence, he was almost able to sneak up on his father, who was standing at what looked to be some sort of glass altar, hand firmly grasped around his sword hilt.

And as he usually did when trying to outmaneuver his father, he failed miserably. "Lloyd!" The sheer rage in that shout was something Lloyd had never heard before. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm coming with you!" he managed to pluck up the courage to reply.

"Get out, go back to Hima! It's not safe here!"

Lloyd was preparing a reply when his father suddenly shouted and sprinted toward him, drawing his sword. Lloyd suddenly feared that his father would cut him down for his disobedience, but instead he was shoved roughly aside. As he fell and rolled he glimpsed a human creature strike an axe through the air where he had just been. His father's longsword rang as it sliced up to meet the weapon. Lloyd scooted back to the corner of the altar and watched as the two exchanged blows, realizing with no small degree of horror that the strange attacker was some sort of angel.

His father made quick work of it, flicked the blood from his sword, and ran over to Lloyd. "Are you all right?"

Lloyd could only nod.

"Stay behind me, and never disobey me again."

He sat at the edge of the glass platform, against a pillar, helpless at his father's feet as more angels appeared seemingly from nowhere. The creatures all flocked toward them, and Lloyd wished that he had been allowed to carry a sword of his own. His dad, never straying more than a few feet from where Lloyd crouched, seemed to be able to hold his own against them. Lloyd could barely track his sword's movements as it cut and hacked and parried flawlessly.

"Lloyd, you're going to run to the exit." He sliced an assailant in half. "You're not going to turn around." Stabbed another through the throat. "You're not going to look back." Another through the gut. "And you're not going to stop until you're far away."

Lloyd nodded, shaking.

"Now, go!"

He made for the light at the end of the glass walkway, dodging incoming blows, tripping over his own shoeless feet, until he thought he was home free.

Then he bumped into something, and that something let out a chuckle. He found himself staring up into the face of a man he'd never seen before. The stranger's cold green eyes petrified him, and in Lloyd's hesitancy, he reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

Lloyd felt his body turn to ice and the air freeze in his lungs. From somewhere far away he heard his father shout, and he could barely force his eyes in that direction.

"Kratos, I think you dropped something." The stranger's voice was bone-chillingly smooth, and soullessly calm. Lloyd told himself to struggle against his grip, but found he couldn't.

From the corner of his eye he saw his father, still as a rock, gaze locked with Lloyd's. Lloyd couldn't say he was sorry from this particular position, but he hoped his eyes could tell his dad just as much.

In his father's momentary, desperate stillness, one of the angels thrust a sword into his back. In a spurt of red it reemerged below his sternum. Lloyd could barely cry out as he saw his father fall to his knees, trying to cup the blood that now spurted from the hole in his chest.

The strange man only laughed. "Now, be gentle with him. We wouldn't want him to expire."

Two angels wrapped their arms around his father's, dragging him upright, where he proceeded to struggle weakly, all the while mouthing something to himself.

"What are you mumbling there, Kratos?" the strange man loosened his grip on Lloyd slightly, but only enough so his legs could twitch uselessly.

Kratos raised his bloodied head, and through the din of angels scuffling, armor clinking, and his own gasping, Lloyd heard him whisper the word: "Judgment."

A white-hot pillar burst between Lloyd and his assailant, sending both of them flying. Lloyd managed to keep himself from rolling off the side of the catwalk and into the infinite blue light, but as he struggled to his feet, every muscle in him burned. He could barely stumble toward his father, who now had one arm free and was weaving a spell in the air before him.

"Dad," Lloyd managed to squeak, reaching out a charred hand.

While each of their respective attackers was busy recovering, the two locked eyes for a moment, and Lloyd knew what was coming wasn't good. From his father's hand burst a wave of white energy. It hit him right in the chest, throwing him back into the air. A great blue chasm opened behind him and he felt himself being flung toward it, winded. Lloyd recognized it as a banishment spell almost immediately, even though he had never seen one before. He managed, as he fell through the great hole into whatever wasteland lay beyond, to look at his father's face one last time. The last thing he saw was Kratos' lips recite an incantation of rejection before the giant mouth of the chasm closed above him.


	3. Virginia

All was blue. All was air. He was weightless, buoyed only by an upward current of wind. Lloyd spread his arms, embracing the open sky, reveling in flight, until his head cleared enough to realize that he was falling.

It's a nice day to die, was all he thought, until he remembered who had sent him here, miles above the earth and careening ever downward. So, his father would rather die alone than have his son by his side. Lloyd would've gone with him, taken a sword to the heart too, if only the old bastard would just let him. Strangely enough, even with the wind in his eyes, he still managed to push a few tears out.

He was sailing far above an unfamiliar land, nothing but a speck in an endless blue sky. It took him a moment to realize that he would hit the ground in a short time, and all would end. He wondered if he would beat his father to the moment of death—whether it would take longer for him to reach earth or for his father to bleed out. But he would be damned if his dad got to greet his mother before him. He thought he'd rather not know exactly when the impact would come, so he flipped on his back and let gravity pull him swiftly toward the ground.

He didn't see the impossibly floating mass of land blow in the wind under him, or how the only watering hole in the sky city happened by chance to line up precisely with his trajectory—all he knew is that he hit something hard, and hit it far sooner than he expected, and that even though it stole his consciousness from him, he still lived.

* * *

The residents of Exire were not expecting a strange boy to fall from the sky. To be fair, Exire was an isolated town of so very little consequence that they didn't expect much of anything at all, ever. The most exciting thing they had on their little sky island was one crazy woman who was basically harmless. Because they were so unaccustomed to and therefore afraid of the unexpected, they decided to house the unconscious boy, who, lucky for him, managed to land in the tiny pool at the town's edge, with said crazy woman. They figured if they lumped their problems together, perhaps they would cancel out. Which isn't such a bad idea, considering it's easy to hit two birds with one stone when you shut both of them up in the same barrel.

* * *

Lloyd could almost hear his eyelids creak as he slowly forced them open. A blurred image of a woman's pale face came into view, and for a second he thought he might've just found his mother. He was either dead, or had made it to the land of riches, Tethe'alla. When he finally opened his eyes completely, he realized that no, he had not found his mother. The woman hovering above him was clearly an elf.

So where was he? Where was… He suddenly remembered that he had fallen.

"How did I live?" he croaked.

"I'm not so sure you did," came the not-entirely-satisfactory reply. Lloyd managed to sit up and examine his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cluttered but relatively clean hut, tucked into a straw bed. He was clearly alive, as evinced by his aching body. Events that at first seemed to be so far in the past slowly came back to him: the tower, flocks of angels, the strange man with the ice-cold glare, and his father. Lloyd had never before seen those kinds of spells or that kind of power. He wondered what had been hidden from him for so many years, and resolved that when he managed to get to their assigned meeting point, he would have a good long talk with his dad.

"I have to get outta here," he said, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His muscles immediately protested, sending sharp pain through him. He clenched his teeth and hissed a little.

"Well, be quiet about it," the woman said. "Don't wake the baby."

"Baby?"

Lloyd looked over at the elf and noticed she was holding a doll that seemed be be made of burlap and yarn. Oh, great. Just when he thought his dad was the craziest person alive, this lady comes along. Lloyd knew it was probably safest to humor her, so he tried to get up as quietly as he could, grunting and cursing his sore muscles. He had managed to get halfway out of bed when a knock came at the door and a timid voice called, "Virginia?"

"Coming," the elf woman replied, walking to the door. She ushered in a curious-looking fellow, probably another elf, by the looks of it.

"Good morning," he smiled at Lloyd. "You had quite a fall. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Lloyd lied.

"How in the world did you end up in the middle of the sky? You just... popped out of nowhere."

Lloyd scratched his aching head, thinking of the terrifying spell his father had cast, of the gaping blue hole that had swallowed him and spat him back out far away from the fight. He briefly wondered if his father had banished him for his own safety, or if he just wanted to get him out of his hair. He hadn't done very good job of predicting where that portal would eject Lloyd... or maybe he just didn't care. "Gods," Lloyd muttered, holding his head, "I don't even know. All of a sudden, I was just falling."

The man raised and eyebrow and gave Lloyd an incredulous look.

"Oh, it looks like baby's getting hungry," Virginia said. "Excuse me, gentlemen, while I go feed her."

When she left, the man turned back to Lloyd. "I'm sorry we had to leave you with Virginia, but we have no other empty beds in the rest of the village, you understand. And she's the best healer we've ever had. Without her, well, I don't know if you would've pulled through."

"Is this an elf village?" Lloyd asked.

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment. "H... half-elf."

Lloyd immediately cursed his luck for falling headfirst into a den of Desians, but then reconsidered. If they had wanted to enslave him he'd have woken up in chains; if they wanted to kill him he wouldn't have woken up at all. No, for some reason, these people seemed different than Desians. He obviously had not fallen into the middle of a human ranch, but he still wondered why half-elves would be so kind as to nurse an inferior being like him back to health.

The man continued speaking, a little nervously. "We built this city—well, Virginia actually did most of the aeronautical planning, but we built this city to escape the persecution rampant on the ground."

"Persecution... against half-elves?" Lloyd almost laughed. Weren't they the ones running the ranches? Weren't they the ones herding and harvesting people like animals? And what did he mean about the ground?

The man frowned, taken aback. "I think you hit your head, kid. Maybe some fresh air will clear it." He led Lloyd outside the small hut and into the windy grey light of day. Lloyd closed the door behind him, turned around, and was immediately struck dumb by the view. He was standing eye-level with the clouds, watching a gorgeous but altogether unfamiliar land move slowly below him. His heart beat so violently he thought it might pop out of his chest, his head swirled, his legs shook, and he nearly fell headfirst off the edge of the floating city. But he couldn't help smiling. He had done it: he had made it to Tethe'alla.

* * *

With Virginia tending to him, Lloyd recovered quickly. She would bring him food, lay a warm cloth over his aching head, and wouldn't let him out of her sight. After he was all but cured, he was confronted with a seemingly insurmountable problem—how to get back down on the ground. While he was recovering and being nursed alongside the doll as Virginia's child, he asked around how he could manage to get to the ground below. From every villager he got the same answer: he couldn't. That was the whole point of Exire. Total isolation.

No wonder Virginia had gone insane.

As the days wore on into weeks, Lloyd grew accustomed to her ramblings, her hang-ups, that creepy doll she insisted was her daughter, Raine. She also harped on about how she was pregnant again but hadn't yet chosen a name. Lloyd humored her, because even though her meals were terrible and her ranting was worse, even though she would address Lloyd by myriad names, none of which were his own, she had an indomitable aura of kindness, and it was because of her that he was able to recover from his injuries so quickly. And rarely, very rarely, Virginia suffered from bouts of lucidity so convincing that Lloyd began to suspect that sometimes, when the stars lined up just right, she wasn't crazy at all.

"You know, I used to be the top aeronautical engineer in Sybak," she said suddenly, after placing a plate of barely-cooked rice in front of him. "Until my family insisted I separate myself from the university and go back home to Heimdall. 'Not a place for an elf,' they said. Bloody racists, if you ask me."

Lloyd, surprised at her sudden history lesson, laughed so hard his rice came spouting back out onto his plate.

Virginia, however, didn't think it was that funny. She sat across from him and crossed her legs, like she was a guest at a dinner party. "To tell you the complete truth, I couldn't stand living here, this damned empty island." She turned, suddenly sad, and stared at the wall for several minutes. Lloyd was afraid to speak, lest he interrupt her thoughts, so he ate in silence until she said, "You know, Kloitz, I've been hearing rumors that you're going to be leaving me up here. That you're going back down to the ground."

"I'm going to try. And I'm not Kloitz."

"I know I shouldn't cry over the inevitable," she said, cradling her doll. "But sometimes I can't help it." Virginia's shoulders began to shake and she hung her head. Lloyd, not sure what to do, scooted his chair over to her and put an awkward hand on her back. When she glanced up at him, here eyes were red and watery. "I abandoned them. I did. At the gate to the other world." At this point Lloyd was sure she had retreated back into insanity.

She did not emerge from her delusions again for days. Every few hours she would go to the window and mutter something about a secret, then leave, come back into the house, sing a song to her doll and rock it to sleep. Lloyd only watched her, not willing to interrupt. He took her lapses in reason as an invitation to retreat within himself, to think long and hard about the bewildering spectacle that had taken place at the Tower of Salvation. He mused on it for hours at a time, trying to make sense of the whole thing, but couldn't. He just didn't know enough. He didn't know enough about the Tower, about the angels, even about his own dad.

So he made plans. He composed a flawless argument accusing his father of gross neglect. He secretly gathered things he would need when he escaped this place—a few thin blocks of cheese, salted meat, occasionally money, some extra clothes here and there, mostly things the other residents of Exire threw in the waste pile at the edge of town, where it would be thrown to the ground later. With all this packed, he would go to the assigned meeting place and wait for his father, and he would have a few choice words for him—if he was still alive.

Lloyd spent weeks feeding and nursing his escape plans, like Virginia fed and nursed her doll. Like the doll, he wasn't sure if his plans would ever grow to be something real. After weeks of no progress, no sign of his escape ever being possible, he started to consider going crazy himself. He had to concede that losing his mind might be the only way to escape this place, but his plans solidified when one day Virginia rebounded into clarity. "You're looking to leave, aren't you?" she asked him.

"If I can."

"You can. When I came here I began to build a way out. I wanted to go find them. But I can't, I just can't. I'm too weak." She stared at him intensely for a moment. "It's in the shed."

She led Lloyd out the side of the house to the storage shed, one that he had assumed had been empty, since he never saw her even unlock it, much less go inside. But as she fiddled with the padlock, he got a feeling that she had his ticket out.

In the glowing dust of the old shed, Lloyd could make out the curved outline of what appeared to be a small wing.

"It's just a prototype, but it should get you to where you're going."

Lloyd had never told her where he was going.

Virginia turned away from the winged machine and looked at him with uncharacteristically clear eyes. "Kloitz… No, not Kloitz. Lloyd. Lloyd, who fell from the sky. Some people here don't want outsiders to know this town exists. So tonight, when they're asleep, take this to the edge and just drop. The machine will glide. Just have faith."

Lloyd wasn't sure if he appreciated being told to jump to his death by a crazy woman, but he also wasn't sure how else he'd get off this floating rock.

"I may not be this clearheaded later," Virginia continued, brimming with tears, "so do not listen to me if I try to dissuade you. Take this." She handed him a tattered book, covered in as much dust as the neglected flying machine. "Find them. Find them and tell them I'm so, so sorry."

"Find who?"

"My children."


	4. The Oracle

That night, when Lloyd dragged the tiny gliding machine to the edge of the floating city, he was absolutely certain he was going to fall to his death. Of course, anyone told to push a glider off a cliff and jump right on would have some reservations about it. He stared into the endless blue night below him, watching the grey, glowing forms of clouds swirl like drops of milk in tea. Maybe if he aimed for one of them he could land on it… Lloyd shook his head. This was impossible, it was certain death, he couldn't do it, he wouldn't…

But to Lloyd's great surprise he did it anyway. When he careened downward through the freezing night air, still certain he was going to die, all of a sudden he felt strangely free. The machine, as if awoken simply by being reintroduced to its intended environment, sprung to life on its own. It spread two grey canvas wings, spouted some gaseous waste behind him and shot off toward the horizon. Lloyd barely held on as the device made its own course; for the first while the best he could do was try not to fall off. Cold bursts of air flew into his nose and mouth, making it difficult to breathe, but after a few minutes of fighting with the machine and the wind around him, he managed to find the steering. He held on for dear life, clutching at the levers, until he finally got the hang of this whole flying thing.

Lloyd found himself laughing at the blasts of cold air on his face, the sputtering of the motor. He loved the freedom, the power he felt when he tipped the glider and curved his own path against the sky. He could finally go wherever he wanted—no father to hold him back, no walls, no fences. He had half a mind to stay up there forever, gliding across the world, never troubling himself with the problems on the ground, so far below him.

After about an hour, when the initial rush was over, he realized he had no idea where he was, or how to get where he wanted to go. A small, dingy screen was nestled in the control apparatus, so he played with it, trying to type in the coordinates he wanted.

It turned out that although Virginia seemed to be a brilliant engineer, she was not so good at building computers. At least, Lloyd assumed this was a computer—he had only heard about them, vaguely, from his father. Nevertheless, after tapping at the screen mindlessly for what seemed like forever, he was finally able to bring up a map of the surrounding area, and the corresponding coordinates. When he found that his mark was conveniently close by, he geared toward it at full speed, realizing just then that he had no idea how to land.

By the time he neared the mountain, it was too late to learn. He pulled up as fast as he could, but the machine still sped downward, missing its intended landing spot by at least a few miles. When the glider was low enough that the treetops scraped the bottom, Lloyd released the steering, raising his hands to protect himself from the impact. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, preparing for a backbreaking collision.

To his surprise, his sudden contact with earth was gentle, breezy almost. He dared to open his eyes and saw below him a patch of what looked like giant petals. He felt a puff of air slow him to a gentle descent, and he landed in a bed of huge, soft flowers. The plants wiggled and puffed bubbles of warm air at him, and despite the sheer weirdness of the flora, Lloyd felt himself relax. He sat on the comfortable petals, rather pleased with his landing. That was a pretty nice piece of luck.

The flying machine, though, seemed to be beyond repair. It had crumpled as soon as it hit the mouth of one of the bizarre flowers, its wings bent pathetically under it. It looked like it hadn't suffered too heavy damage, but the thing was old and extremely delicate, and Lloyd didn't have the skills to fix it. He figured the likelihood of finding a glider repairman out in this wilderness was pretty low, so he would have to leave it to the mercy of the flowers. It looked like he'd have to go on foot from here on out.

The mountainside was dotted with hundreds those strange, breathing flowers. Lloyd tugged his pack closer to him and headed upward, cursing his father's decision to make their meeting point at the top of a mountain. Leave it to his dad to make things hard for him. But he trudged upward, always the loyal son. At least this solitary journey gave him time to think about things, about his father's unbelievable power, the blond man with the cruel smile, and the Tower. He wondered what they all had to do with one another, but so far he had no leads except this meeting point. His thoughts just chased themselves in circles, going nowhere.

He walked on until the sun peeked over the mountaintop, bathing the sky in pink light. As he made his way upslope, the air grew colder and the trees thinner. When he neared the summit, he spied a small hut squatting on one of the hillside's plateaus. That must be it, he thought, and scrambled up the slope toward it.

When he finally reached it, panting, he threw his pack down by the door and reached for the knob. He expected it to be locked tight, but the door creaked open surprisingly easily. Faint morning light slipped in through the only window, and he crept inside, sneezing at the dust. He was about to make himself comfortable when he realized the hut was already occupied. A small fire flickered in the tiny hearth, and small figure slumped before it, reaching out to its warmth.

"Oh," he said. "Excuse me."

An old man, who looked to be an elf, turned to him slowly, as if not surprised in the least bit to see a stranger appear at his door. He had the look of an oracle about him, with his wizened wrinkles and tattered cloak.

"I'm waiting for my father," Lloyd told him.

The sage smiled. "You'll be waiting for a long time, then."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No. But he left something the last time he was here. Something he wanted to keep hidden."

"How do you know him?"

"Oh, plenty of people know him." The old man shuffled to the far edge of the hut and bent down. He reached under a side table and tugged a long black chest from the shadows. "My old bones can't handle this weight," he said, motioning for Lloyd to pick it up.

Lloyd heaved it onto the table and undid the latches holding the lid down. He glanced at the old man, who nodded at him to open it. Lloyd held his breath and lifted the lid. What he found inside both intrigued and bewildered him.

The first thing he removed from the chest was a massive tome, bound in wrinkled leather and thick with dust. He cracked it open to find it in a language he didn't understand. He set that aside and pulled out a small chunk of metal that glinted in the dim light. He couldn't make anything of that, either. The third thing to appear from the chest seemed to be some rotting kindling, which confused him more than the rest. But the next item he pulled from the chest left him dumbfounded. It was a massive longsword, and when Lloyd slid it from its sheath, he saw the blade was etched with flames. When the light of the fire caught its steel, it seemed to glow an eerie red, as if it were the embers of some ancient power. Letters in a foreign tongue, one Lloyd couldn't read, were embossed near its hilt. He turned the sword over and over in his hands, shaking his head, trying to figure this all out.

Why would his father need such a magnificent thing? And something that seemed so old? He looked to the sage for help, but the old man merely shook his head as if he knew nothing about it.

Lloyd turned back to the chest, reached in and pulled out another book, smaller this time, and sifted through the yellowed pages. His father's handwriting filled nearly every inch of paper, a goldmine of barely legible scribbles. Lloyd shuffled through the pages, landing on one near the end, where apparently his father had been in some big hurry to stop writing. _Contact Summoner in Meltokio, utmost impo_—is all it said. Lloyd frowned, figured he'd decipher its meaning later, and reached back into the chest. His fingers wrapped around something small and he plucked out what appeared to be an exsphere, glinting blue, complete with key crest.

"Fancy that," he muttered. With this, and with the strange sword he had discovered, he would finally be able to hold his own. He had never used an exsphere before, but his dad usually wore one. He'd once asked him about the basics, and wasn't given extremely an informative answer, but the thought he had the gist of how they worked. Stick it on, warm it up, and instant power. He had a feeling he would use this quite a bit.

He set the exsphere aside and reached into the black box again. He found another small, round thing, metal this time, and he pulled out what appeared to be a locket, trailing a thin silver chain. He had some trouble getting his fingernails between its rusty sides, but when he opened it, he fell back into a chair, hand over his mouth.

There she was. Her, and his father, and what must've once been him cradled between them. His father's hand was on his mother's shoulder, her hand laid across his. And Lloyd. Damn, he was a fat baby. He heard himself let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a chuckle. The old man watched Lloyd make a fool of himself, but he said nothing, choosing simply to watch silently from the shadows. When Lloyd was finished sobbing, he wiped his eyes and reluctantly set aside the locket. He wanted more of this, more of his mother—maybe if he was lucky he'd pull out a portrait, or a lock of her hair.

He was disappointed when he reached again into the chest. He pulled out several strange artifacts—a pot, what looked to be a ceremonial knife, a rusty brooch. He thought he recognized the knife and the brooch from somewhere, then remembered that the book Genis had given him had illustrations depicting items remarkably similar to these ones.

"These are relics of the ancient war," Lloyd muttered, half speaking to himself, half to the old man. "Where could my dad possibly get these?"

The sage smiled feebly. "Ask him yourself."

Lloyd clenched a fist. "I would, but he's probably dead."

"Do you believe he's dead?"

Lloyd hesitated for a moment before answering, "No."

"Then he's still alive. Your father has an old soul. He's tenacious. He's good at evading death, especially when that means he'll have to leave you alone."

He leaves me alone all the time, Lloyd thought. But he said, "What do I do now?"

"Take what you can with you. I'll keep the rest safe. Go find him. But you may rest here first, if you wish."

"Thanks," Lloyd said. His stomach rumbled so he sat on the old man's floor, took some cheese from his pack and began to munch. He lay all of the items from the box next to one another, looking them over and rubbing his chin. After a short nap, a good meal and a few minutes to think, he began to pack his things.

Lloyd decided to take the small leather book filled with his father's scribbles. He stacked it on top of Virginia's diary and lay the books down on the bottom of his bag. He left the chunk of metal, the wood, and the decorative ancient artifacts that looked like they'd be more comfortable in a museum than anywhere else. He pulled the locket around his neck and strapped the sword to his side. It felt heavy and brittle, and Lloyd didn't know if something that old would even survive combat, but at least it was a weapon. He wouldn't need to hide behind his father now, and wouldn't need to stand by and helplessly witness injustice. The last thing from the chest he chose to take with him was the bluish exsphere. He looked for an accessible place on his body onto which he could apply it, and his left hand seemed to do. He lay the key crest on his skin and pressed the exsphere into it. He wasn't expecting the prickling pain he felt when the little stone came into contact with his skin. But the discomfort was over in a moment, and after the exsphere successfully fused with his hand, a kind of warm glow spread through his body. Somehow he felt that it belonged on him, and for a split second he wondered if he had ever worn it before. It just seemed so at home on him, but at the same time this unexpected familiarity with it made him somewhat uncomfortable. He would definitely have to interrogate his father about this little stone when he finally found him.

But for now, he knew he needed to get to Meltokio. The last scribble in his father's little book was about the only clue he had. He heaved his pack onto his back and thanked the old sage for his kindness. With no time to waste, he sprang out the door, slamming it behind him, only to return moments later, red-faced.

"Um. Which way is Meltokio?"


	5. Sheena

Within the week Lloyd found himself at the entrance to the Elemental Research Institute. It wasn't hard to find if you just asked around, and in Meltokio, there were plenty of people to ask. He'd never seen a city so big—in Sylvarant the paucity of mana and manpower didn't permit such cities to grow. Not to mention the Desians, who would attack and ravage any town they thought might be big enough to pose a threat to their operations.

He glanced at the exsphere on his hand. His father had never let him wear one, although he wore his own. He had said they were too rare and too dangerous, but here, everyone seemed to have one. Ladies sported them as necklaces, earrings, and bracelets, men in their wristwatches or rings. Exspheres changed with the seasons—what kind was in fashion one month was out the next, and there seemed to be an endless supply of them. Lloyd knew their manufacture took place either in human ranches or facilities like them, so he assumed they required plenty of labor to produce. But there were no human ranches here, so how were there so many? Maybe outside of Meltokio they had other, different factories that took employees rather than slaves.

He had considered upgrading his own exsphere—perhaps buying a fancy Lezarano one that was said to be the most powerful product on the market, but he liked his own; there was something familiar and comforting about it. He didn't know why; maybe he had seen his father wear it at one point.

He rubbed it for good luck and entered the Research Institute. The lobby was dark and slightly smelly, but the receptionist smiled at him kindly, asking him if she could help him.

"I'm looking for the resident summoner," he said.

"Sheena? She's busy at the moment, but she's in."

"I'll wait."

Lloyd sat opposite the desk, twiddling his thumbs. He really didn't know what he'd say to her, since he had no idea what his father wanted to say to her. He figured he might just show her the book and ask her to decipher the enigmatic drawings, the illegible scribbles, or the seemingly out-of-place instances of higher-order mathematics that dotted its insides.

While he waited, he decided to pull out the book Virginia gave him. He barely got it open when someone emerged from the more shadowy parts of the Institute and into the lobby. Lloyd knew at once that this person wasn't the summoner, so he got up and tried to move past him, but the man was having none of it. He blocked his way and stared him down, his eyes narrowing. When Lloyd was just about to open his mouth to ask him what the problem was, he stepped aside and strode through the door with a dramatic swish of his cloak.

Lloyd shrugged and went in to see the summoner, who was sitting at a desk, petting what looked like a fox, or may have been a fox in a previous life. It truly was a strange animal, and it reminded him a little of Noishe. He wondered how the old dog was doing—probably getting fat from the leftovers at the Hima inn. He smiled, his mind lost somewhere back in Sylvarant with his dog, when the summoner brought him back.

"Hello? Are you in there?" she asked.

"Oh. Huh. Yeah. I was wondering if you knew anything about what's in here." He handed her his father's mysterious book, and she flipped through a few pages.

"What the..." She sat down at the desk, turning page after page, silently.

"What is it, Sheena?" the little fox-thing asked.

"Whoa! It talks!" Lloyd nearly fell over.

"Of course, you ignoramus," the fox replied.

"Corinne, quiet for a moment." Sheena kept reading while Lloyd and Corinne stared at each other, silent. Lloyd wished Noishe could talk. Then at least they could complain about his father to one another.

After a few minutes, the summoner sighed, closed the book and stood up. "It looks like whoever wrote this was trying to forge a pact ring. But it's incomplete. Who gave this to you?"

"My dad."

"Well, he was doing it mostly right. There are a few things wrong, though. Where's the ring?"

Lloyd shrugged. "I don't think he made it yet."

"Well, he couldn't have, unless he's a dwarf. Which I take it he's not."

Lloyd shook his head.

"And what in the hell do you need a pact ring for? Are you a summoner?"

Lloyd again shook his head.

"Then why do you wanna know?"

"I... um... he sort of went missing. That was all I found. I figured if he came here looking for a summoner, you may have seen him."

"I never met anyone looking to make a pact ring like this. Sorry, kid. Good luck with your search, though." She handed him back the old book and Lloyd deflated. So much for a lead. Maybe he could find something else in that little book. He threw it in his bag, sighed, and exited the Institute.

Back out in the open air, the sun nearly blinded him; they kept it so damn dark in that building. He raised his hand to his face and began to walk blindly down the street. He hadn't got five feet before someone grabbed his collar from behind, spinning him around.

Before he knew if he were in any real danger, his attacker let him go. He lowered his hand and examined his assailant. It seemed to be the man from the lobby, but in the sunlight he could see him a little better—long hair with a blue tinge, elfin face, sharp mouth.

"Where did you get that?" the man demanded.

"Get what?"

"That sword."

"None of your business," Lloyd found himself replying. Who did this guy think he was, grabbing strangers out of nowhere? "And what do you know about it?" He shoved the man away, but as he did so he felt a small pinch on the back of his neck. The man retreated, but to Lloyd's horror he took the locket with him.

"Well, I'll be damned," he smiled, opening the locket.

"Give that back."

The man pocketed the locket and its now broken chain, and shot Lloyd a discerning frown. "If you want it back, you should probably board the northbound ship leaving the harbor tomorrow at three. The summoner will be there. Stick with her."

Lloyd fumed, but he knew he couldn't just cut this guy down in the middle of the street. Instead he only watched the strange man walk away. He grit his teeth, and decided that it would be best if he were to sleep everything off. He still had enough money to buy himself a room and a hot meal in one of the slummier hotels, and still have fare for the boat. He would see the summoner tomorrow on the ship, and he would be able to interrogate her then.

That night, he sat in the inn's creaking, moldy, tacky bar, picked at an undercooked meal, and tried to read the book Virginia had given him, which within the first few seconds he knew to be a diary. It started off pretty benignly, right after she had come home from Sybak, where she had a few unkind words to say about her parents, the university, and racial relations between humans, elves, and half-elves. It surprised Lloyd to learn that racism was practically reversed on this side, but he figured prejudice was still prejudice, and since there were no Desians here, only regular half-elves, the disdain for them seemed unwarranted.

The diary was interesting, especially in its scathing social commentary, but as he read on, it became more and more scatterbrained. It would skip months, sometimes even years, and before long Lloyd was accompanying Virginia to the naming of her first child, Raine. It was a purely elfin ceremony, even though Raine's father was human. The naming procedure was sacred but simple: first the baby would be submerged in a river to receive the blessings of the water spirits. Then she would be dried with the cloak of the town elder, before being dressed in hey what are you doing reading in a fun place like this—

Lloyd looked up to find a smirking redheaded man a little too close to his face. "What?"

"I said, whatcha doing reading in a fun place like this? Live a little, bud!"

"Who are you?"

The man looked shocked for a second, then bellowed out a laugh. "Aw, good one. Come on, my hunnies have been watching you for a while. You're making us all sad, sitting there alone. And with a _book_, no less. For shame, kid. Get over here and have some fun. Drinks are on me."

Before Lloyd could even refuse, he was swept up into a crowd of obnoxiously drunk women, both poor and rich, barmaids and nobles, all clumping around this odd character. He raised a glass and called for more, spilling some on Lloyd's shirt.

Someone had thrust a glass into Lloyd's hand, and out of sheer nervousness, he began to drink it. Pretty soon there was another one. And another—"Zelos, darling, the poor boy's cup has gone dry. Get him another!"

And so he found his night turn into a swirl of skirts, dancing, and drinking. At some point they played a game that oddly necessitated him taking off his shirt and shoving his face into the bosom of the nearest barmaid. At another point he and one of the women ended up river dancing on the table. At yet another point he found himself in the street, opposite Zelos, who had now also taken off his shirt and was jumping up and down, swinging his fists. When the redhead sprung for him, Lloyd raised his fist in defense and it came into reluctant contact with the man's face.

Zelos reeled, hand on his cheek, eyes wide. "You hit me!" he screamed.

Lloyd shook his hand, stinging from the impact. "Of course I hit you. We're fighting, right?"

"Ugh, you don't hit me! Not in the face! Dammit!"

Lloyd lowered his fists, confused. What the hell was this guy—

While his guard was down, Zelos decided to get his revenge. His knee came up to meet Lloyd in the stomach while his fist met his temple. Lloyd fell down on all fours, winded, and the nausea he had been building up all night came to a head.

"I'm gonna—" he started, but after that only vomit came out. While he was busy hurling on the muddy street, Zelos retreated to his swarm of women, nursing his face. When Lloyd was sure he had regurgitated everything he had eaten in the last week, he looked up to find Zelos and his groupies gone. He was alone, and suddenly very cold. Where had his shirt gone?

He stumbled back into the inn, but by this time the bar was mostly empty. Lloyd decided now may be a good time to crawl into bed, but he barely made it up the stairs and through the door to his room before he collapsed on the floor.

* * *

Lloyd opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. Everything was bright, too bright. He laid an arm over his face and turned over to go back to sleep, when he suddenly remembered he had someplace to be. He bolted upright, ignoring the excruciating pain that shot into his head. He struggled to his feet and looked through the window at the sun high in the sky.

I'm late—oh shit—I'm so late, I won't get there in time, I've missed the boat, I've missed it. He threw on his boots and grabbed his pack, rushing downstairs, though the bar and out the door. He turned around halfway down the street and burst back into the inn, where he dove under a nearby table for the book he had left there last night.

He ran down the street and out of the city, suppressing his overwhelming nausea, the pain in his swollen face, and his unbelievable headache. He barely made it down the road to the port, stumbling on shaking legs, trying not to open his eyes too wide. Why did the sun have to be out today? And so high up there? What time was it anyway?

When he reached the port, he called to a man he saw sweeping the docks. "Hey! What time is it?"

"About three."

"Is this the northbound ship?" Lloyd asked, gesturing to a huge monster of a boat behind him.

"No, son. That one's going to Altamira. The one you want is over there." The man pointed to a dingy, sad-looking vessel at the end of the dock. "And you want to get on it fast."

Lloyd barely had time to say thanks before he rushed down the dock and to the boat. He threw some money at the man keeping guard over the ramp leading up to the ship, ran up it, and threw himself down onto the deck with a sigh of relief. A few minutes later the ship trembled below him, and he was off. He stayed lying down for the first little while, waiting for his bouts of sickness and pain to pass. He couldn't remember what he did the night before, couldn't remember what he drank or how much. He held his throbbing head, trying to recall what had happened, but only a few snippets came back here and there. Dancing, fighting, spewing his dinner on the street. Ugh. How embarrassing. He wallowed in self-pity for a while. When he thought he might be okay to stand, he made his way across the ship, looking for the summoner.

The ship wasn't too big, so he didn't have to search very long. He found her leaning off the stern, arms crossed, head down. He approached her, but she didn't seem to notice him. She was staring intently, seriously, into the water. The little fox-creature sprang from her collar and sat on her shoulder, watching him. The fox said something in her ear and she turned around.

"Hey, Sheena."

"Oh. Hi. Um... what's your name?"

"Lloyd."

"What are you doing here? And what did you do to your face?"

"I didn't do this. I don't really remember what happened. Somehow I got in a fight with some obnoxious ginger guy."

"I know one of those," she said. "He likes to go to that bar right outside the slums and pick up hordes of girls. Sometimes he disappears for days."

"I think that's the one... Zel... hm..."

"Zelos?"

"Yeah. That was him."

"Holy hell, did you smack him one?"

"Yup."

Sheena burst out laughing. "Lloyd, you may be the only person in Meltokio brave enough to hit the bastard."

"Why shouldn't I hit him?"

Sheena blinked at him, dumbfounded. "Because. Well. You don't know?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"He's the Chosen."

Lloyd blinked back at her, just as dumbfounded, and then smiled. "Whoops."

Sheena put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll get you a royal pardon. Martel knows he needed a punch or two. So... what are you doing on this creaking death tub? Going to Flanoir?"

"Following you, actually."

Sheena's head tilted curiously. "Oh?"

"That man, the blue-haired weirdo. He told me to stick with you."

"Yuan? He did? He didn't tell me about this."

"I don't trust him, Sheena," the little fox hissed.

Lloyd ignored the suspicious little animal. "He took something of mine and told me to follow you to get it back. I don't know if you believe me, and I can't make you. But why wouldn't you let me stick with you?"

Sheena turned back to the ocean, silent. Lloyd leaned over the railing beside her, trying to ignore his seasickness.

"Yuan is a half-elf, right?" he asked after a while. Sheena looked at him but didn't answer. "Is he a Desian?"

"A Desian?"

"Never mind. Where I'm from, well, let's just say, um, it's different."

Sheena stared at the horizon for a good long minute before asking, "You're from Sylvarant, aren't you?"

Lloyd nodded. He wasn't sure if anyone here even knew about Sylvarant.

"That's probably why Yuan told you to come with me. You can show me around. But are you sure you're willing to do this?"

Lloyd thought for a moment, wishing he could ask "Do what?" But he couldn't—he had almost convinced her to take him with her—he couldn't jeopardize this now. He only nodded.

"Fine. Our escort will be here in a few hours. Meet me below deck."

Sheena turned and walked off in silence. From her retreating shoulder, the little fox watched him. It glared him down until Sheena descended into the hull and out of sight.

* * *

The escort had boarded the ship without the other passengers knowing. Lloyd bet he did it without even the captain knowing, he had been so stealthy about it. Lloyd shivered as he stepped into over the side of the boat into the smaller, quieter vessel. Snow fluttered around him in the chilly wind, and he pulled his traveling cloak tighter around him. He had only seen snow a couple of times, mostly from a distance, on the peaks of the mountains around Palmacosta. In the city itself, it never snowed, only rained.

Both Sheena and the escort were silent the whole way there (wherever "there" was), and Lloyd followed suit. All the while, the little fox on Sheena's shoulder eyed him suspiciously. After an hour or two they came to a mountainous rock jutting above the ocean's choppy surface. It was surrounded by others just like it, and Lloyd didn't know why this one was so special, until they pulled into a rickety dock and disembarked. Carved into the side of the mountain was the largest door Lloyd had ever seen, crafted with blue metal and menacing as hell. He felt himself gulp.

The escort led them inside, where to Lloyd's relief, it was a fair bit warmer. Down the halls they went, through automatic doors, up an elevator, down more halls... Lloyd almost felt himself get motion sick again. Finally they came to a room tackily decked out in red drapes, gold furnishings and far too many plants. At a desk at the far end of the room was Yuan, who stood to greet them.

"Lloyd, I didn't think you would come." Lloyd didn't remember ever telling this guy his name.

"Well, here I am."

Yuan smiled slyly. "Sheena. The Rheiards are ready. There is an exsphere for you waiting in the loading bay. Everything you need is there. We will meet you there in a few minutes."

Sheena raised an eyebrow but exited, leaving Lloyd alone with the freaky man who was so fond of stealing precious jewelry.

"Lloyd." Yuan sat down. "If you ever want to see your father again, you need to make sure Sheena gets her job done."

Lloyd bit his lip angrily. "What have you done with my dad? If you've done anything... And what job? What are you talking about?"

"I don't have him. Gods, no. He's too much of a hassle for me. He and I are actually on the same side, you see, even if he doesn't understand it. So are you. If you want him back, you're going to have to go with Sheena."

"And do what?"

"Stop the Sylvaranti World Regeneration. Kill its Chosen."

Lloyd was silent for a few moments. "Why?" he asked finally.

"Explaining will take time. Time you don't have. Sheena's about to go."

Lloyd grimaced. He didn't want to kill anyone, and he certainly didn't have the skill to be an assassin. But if he wanted to see his dad again... Yuan gave him a look that said he was running out of time. Going once... going twice...

"Fine. Fine! Just give me back my thing."

"Of course." Yuan reached into a desk drawer and tossed him the locket, now chainless. "Better hurry."

* * *

The Rheiards looked a lot like the glider Virginia had built, and seemed to do the same thing in practice, but with one extra feature—they were the only thing that could go between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. The trip itself was eerie but not too trying. Going between the two worlds felt something like getting flattened and then blown up again like a balloon, but it didn't hurt that much.

They landed in the desert, next to what appeared to be a human ranch, but what turned out to be another Rheiard loading dock. He and Sheena set off toward an oasis in the distance. She said that Yuan had been unable to provide information on where the Chosen was at that time, but since the first seal was in the desert, they might as well start the search here.

When they reached the oasis town of Triet, it was well into the afternoon, and frankly, hot as balls. They decided to look around town and ask about the Chosen. Not many people had much to say in the market, so they decided to pass the oasis to ask the local fortuneteller if she had seen them. As soon as he was near enough, Lloyd sprinted down to the edge of the water like his ass was on fire.

"What is it?" Sheena scrambled after him, sounding worried.

Things came rushing back. He stared into the water for a good long minute, remembering. "This is where I learned to swim," he said. He took off his shoes and dunked his feet in the water.

"In case you didn't know, moron, we have a job to do!" the fox squeaked from Sheena's shoulder.

"Shh, Corinne. Let's rest for a few minutes. You don't know how tiring heat can be for humans."

"Whatever Sheena, you just want to go swimming."

"Guilty as charged."

* * *

"Shit, we shouldn't have gone swimming!" Sheena muttered as they trekked through the desert.

"Tell me about it!" Corinne cried.

Lloyd thought it was all worth it, though. He was glad that they had waited to talk to the fortuneteller, who promptly sent them on their way by informing them that the first seal had already been released, and that the Chosen's party was heading for Palmacosta as they spoke. Then she charged them an abhorrent amount of money, which is something fortunetellers are, of course, liable to do.

"There's only one way to Palmacosta, and it's over those mountains," Lloyd said as they walked. "And there's only one way over those mountains. If we hurry, we can catch them at Ossa Trail."

Lloyd was so caught up in this whole mess of killing the Chosen he hadn't had much time to consider the morality of it all. If this world's Chosen was anything like Tethe'alla's, then he wouldn't have too much of a problem with it. And there was also Yuan's threat to take into consideration: if he ever wanted to see his dad again, he would have to do this.

They had to stop for the night under a windswept boulder. They decided not to build a fire, and instead scanned the horizon for light that may indicate another campsite. Maybe the Chosen was around here, maybe not. Maybe their target had decided to keep hidden and not build a fire either.

So Sheena and Lloyd ate a cold meal in silence, until Lloyd's curiosity got the better of him. "Did Yuan tell you to kill the Chosen?"

"No," she answered. "I was issued an order by the Tethe'allan monarchy. Yuan agreed to supply the necessary equipment."

"Why would Tethe'alla want Sylvarant's Chosen dead?"

"Because when Sylvarant prospers, Tethe'alla dwindles. And vice versa. If this world's regeneration is completed, mana will flow from Tethe'alla into Sylvarant, and we would go downhill."

"Why is it like that?"

"Don't ask me. I don't know. I'm just here to save my world."

Lloyd unpacked his bedroll and curled inside. "What does Yuan have to do with any of this?"

Sheena lay down, staring at the stars. "I don't rightly know what he has to gain from this. Maybe money. Those Rheiards cost a fortune. All I know is that he's well equipped and willing to do business. Flying machines, exspheres, technology, everything. Practically all of Tethe'alla is dependent on it, and Yuan charges us for all of it."

And how does he know so much about my dad? Lloyd wanted to ask, but couldn't. He only turned on his other side and tried to fall asleep.

His father was in his mind, dropping him into the cool oasis. Lloyd clung to him, desperately afraid, but his dad floated him on his back and told him to kick his legs. Lloyd gulped, but he obeyed, swinging his arms.

"Don't let me go!" he screamed, gurgling water. "Don't let go!"

His father only laughed and did just that. And to Lloyd's surprise, he stayed afloat. He paddled desperately after his father, who moved through the water like a fish, always evading him.

"I'm a sea monster, Lloyd. I'm going to eat you."

"Stop it!"

"Swim for your life, little sailor."

"Stop!"

For a brief moment Lloyd thought he might indeed have to swim for his life, so he paddled desperately toward the shore. With his face half-submerged, his father swam after him like a wily predator. He dove under him, kicked off the bottom and came splashing up under Lloyd, catching him in his arms. Lloyd heard his gasps of panic turn quickly into laughs as his dad threw him up in the air, caught him again and carried him to shore. There was water all over him, dripping down his face—

And with a jolt Lloyd realized his cheeks were wet. He lifted his head, rubbed his face and his hand came away tearstained. He glanced up to find Corinne watching him silently. The little fox sat beside a sleeping Sheena, wordless. It didn't take its eyes off him as he lay back down, dried his cheeks, closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

* * *

"I saw your son today." Yuan didn't know if Kratos could hear him. Mithos had done a number on him and strung him up, arms spread, on the wall of one of the more isolated storage rooms on Derris Kharlan. Gods above, it was a wonder he was still alive—but Yuan knew Mithos was careful. He couldn't let his seal with Origin die, or else it was all over. All three of them knew that. But it looked like Kratos, with his bloody head and limp body, wasn't knowing much of anything at all these days.

Yuan decided to continue anyway, to see if he could get a response. "Guess what he had with him? Flamberge."

He thought he saw a twitch move up Kratos' suspended arm.

"And a very sweet family portrait. I don't know how you managed to get all that to him, but he's alive and well, and looking for you. He's off to Sylvarant to kill the Chosen."

Kratos' eyes barely opened, but Yuan saw that he was listening. Yuan had also previously made sure Kratos would be the only one listening. He knew Derris Kharlan as well as anyone—and especially where its eyes and ears were. Mithos had done them a favor by stuffing Kratos in the back where no one went, and no one listened.

"I'm sure you'd like me to kill you and all, but sadly you've gone and got yourself noticed. If I let you go now, or even if I finished you off, Mithos would know it's me. I suspect he already knows I've defected. It'll only be a little while till he decides to bring the hammer down. I guess after the Chosen dies. And with the Renegades gone, who will be your ally? Who will help you release the seal?"

Kratos seemed to have stopped paying attention, but Yuan didn't care. "If I were you, I'd hope that Lloyd gets his act together and puts you out of your misery."

At this point, Kratos was unresponsive, but Yuan knew that he would internalize anything he said involving Lloyd. It would just take time. He figured his work there was done, and slipped out into the starry atrium of Derris-Kharlan, confident he was not being watched.


	6. The Chosen

"There they are," Sheena whispered to him, motioning slowly to a small group navigating the boulders around the entrance to Ossa Trail. Lloyd squinted to see them. He could make out three light-haired individuals, but from this distance he couldn't tell them apart.

"We should probably buy some binoculars," he said, looking over his shoulder for Sheena, but she was already on her way down the hill. He swore quietly, stumbling after her, desperately trying to keep the noise to a minimum. How on earth did Sheena move so fast, and so quietly? He was a little worried he might botch the whole operation, but Sheena didn't seem to notice him scrambling after her, making a mess of the mountainside. He dislodged rocks, uprooted saplings, sent pebbles tumbling down the slope, all the while cursing himself for making such a racket.

Lloyd barely caught up with Sheena when she sprung from the underbrush and into the Chosen's path.

"Which one of you is the Chosen?" she demanded.

A sprightly girl with blonde hair smiled genially. "Oh, that would be me."

"Prepare to die."

Sheena sprung at her just as Lloyd managed to disentangle himself from the bushes and stumble onto the road. The Chosen fell backwards in surprise, apparently tripping over some sort of antiquated lever. A massive hole that looked to be an abandoned mineshaft opened beneath Sheena and she disappeared into the ground. But the shock of seeing his companion vanish was not what stopped Lloyd in his tracks.

"Genis?" he called, almost relieved.

"Lloyd?" Genis gaped in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Lloyd couldn't very easily tell him that he was going to assassinate the Chosen. "Well, I—"

"It's dangerous here!" Genis said. "Were you going after that lady?"

"Is she your friend?" the Chosen asked kindly. "Do you suppose she's okay?" Lloyd tilted his head at her, perplexed by her concern. Who in her right mind would have sympathy for an assassin?

The woman accompanying them, who Lloyd guessed was Genis' older sister, raised her staff at him. "If you're with her then you have five seconds to turn around and walk away."

Genis turned to his sister. "Raine, wait."

Raine? Lloyd bit his lip. This was getting a little too strange. His brain chugged into overdrive, trying to guess if this was the same Raine from Virginia's narrative, if Raine was a common name... he wondered if he had suddenly gotten himself embroiled in something he couldn't handle. He looked from Raine's incredulous face to Genis' worried one, to the Chosen's look of kind concern. Shit, I can't do this, he thought, and instead of drawing his sword and cutting down this naive Chosen, he jumped down after Sheena into the dark safety of the mineshaft. He slid to the dusty bottom and glanced up at the dull rectangle of light above him. Nobody followed him down, and for that, he was thankful.

He found Sheena lying in the dust, Corinne nuzzling under her arm, trying to wake her. He hoisted her onto his back, bending under her weight, and started walking, hoping that somewhere there would be another exit to the mine. If not, well, maybe they could wait for the Chosen and company to move on and they could try to climb back out of the shaft. Lloyd doubted it would work.

After a few minutes of scrambling through the dark with a limp woman on his shoulders, Corinne said, "I smell fresh air. It's faint, but if you follow me, I think I can lead you out."

Lloyd briefly considered whether Corinne was going to lead him to his death, but with Sheena on his back, he discarded the idea. The little fox may not like him much, but it adored Sheena, so it wouldn't sacrifice her just to screw with him. He followed the fox as best he could—since it was pitch-black he only had the tinkle of its bell as a guide. After about an hour of wandering through the dark, Sheena began to stir on his back.

"Wait," he called to Corinne, and set Sheena down against the wall of the tunnel. He heard her groan and sharply suck air in through her nose, like she was lazily waking up after a long, restful sleep.

"What the hell?" she said. "Why can't I see?"

"Because it's dark," Lloyd answered. "You fell down a mineshaft."

"Oh good, I thought I went blind for a moment. I suppose I won't know for sure until we get out of here."

"Yeah. I may be blind too, for all I can see."

He heard Sheena struggle to her feet. "Did you kill the Chosen?"

Lloyd shook his head uselessly in the dark. "No. I came to help you instead."

She sighed and groped for his arm. "I guess that's that. Corinne?"

"I'm here, Sheena. Follow me, I'll lead us out."

The two of them stumbled slowly, steadily after the little fox, coughing, blind and tired. Lloyd could swear that he was going nowhere, that they had been walking endlessly in circles, but soon he spied a tiny crack of light in the distance. Corinne crawled up to it and examined it.

"That looks a little small for us," Sheena sighed as Corinne burrowed through.

"Kick just above it," the fox called back.

"What?"

"Just do it."

In the dim light Lloyd could see Sheena shrug and take a few steps back. She sprang forward, lifted her foot and kicked just above the crack. As her foot made contact, Lloyd heard a massive wooden creak. The whole wall fell away and bright light flooded his vision.

"I guess we're out," Sheena said, walking over the corpse of what was once a sturdy mine door.

"No sign of them," Lloyd said, shielding his eyes and looking around.

"I'm in no state to take 'em out anyway," Sheena said, chuckling. "And neither are you."

Lloyd looked down at himself, covered in dirt and soot, and looked at Sheena, who was even worse—she also had a dried stream of blood from her forehead to her chin. She looked so filthy and ridiculous Lloyd had to laugh.

"We should find a safe place, rest up, and follow them," Sheena said. "Or we could find out where the next seal is and beat them to it."

"Good luck with that," Lloyd answered. "No one really knows where they are. It's a miracle they found the first one so fast."

"Huh. In Tethe'alla the elemental seals are common knowledge."

"Well, that's because you have a whole research institute for them. We can't afford that sort of thing here."

"Anyway, we should get out of here before they come down and see us like this. An assassin getting caught in this state of disarray would be pretty embarrassing. If everyone back home found out, I'd never live it down."

* * *

It took a while to track the Chosen's party down. Back in Palmacosta, it was easy to ask about them since a semi-local boy like him should be interested in the fact that someone so famous was in his town. They learned precious little, and were set on a false lead for a while when a group pretending to be the Chosen's was scamming people for donations. Lloyd and Sheena taught them a lesson, not so much because it was the moral thing to do, but because they had led them disastrously off-course and were just generally a pain in the ass.

It was a little weird being back in Palmacosta all this time, but since his life basically consisted of him leaving and returning there periodically, it kind of felt like he was back for the beginning of the school year. Lloyd wondered if Genis would be coming back the next year, if he weren't still accompanying the Chosen by the time the fall came around. Lloyd also wondered how Genis would react when his own schoolmate assassinated her. Would Lloyd be able to justify it, to Genis or to himself? Even though he'd be saving Tethe'alla if he did this, he would be betraying Sylvarant. It's not like Sylvarant had been that kind to him—apart from Palmacosta, most of it was wilderness, rural towns and monsters. Not to mention the Desians, who crawled all over it like termites on a rotting log. Allowing the Chosen to succeed would make the Desians disappear, but they'd probably just crop up in Tethe'alla, since according to Sheena, the respective declines and prosperities in the two worlds were mirrored. There was something irreparably unfair about the whole system—but Lloyd didn't know how to fix it. For now, he stayed with Sheena. When it came down to it, he wasn't sure what he would do. Perhaps he would help Sheena get the job done, rescue his father, and abandon Sylvarant. Maybe, in the critical moment, he would stop Sheena and sacrifice both his dad and the other world. In truth, he didn't want to Chosen to die. He didn't want anyone to die, but none of this was exactly his choice. However, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that somehow he had a degree of responsibility to fix the whole thing.

So he stayed with Sheena, who, in her silent stoicism, seemed to also have her reservations about her assigned mission. Neither of them broached the subject—they simply followed the Chosen, that well-intentioned young girl only doing her job like the rest of them. They finally managed to catch up at Thoda Geyser.

"What are they doing?" Lloyd muttered, crouching from a safe distance away.

"Lemme see those," Sheena grabbed the binoculars from him. "They seem—there's a bridge. They're going over the geyser."

"This must be the seal."

"We should follow them inside—wait. The bridge is… it disappeared."

"Figures," Lloyd sighed. "We should go down there and watch."

"No, we shouldn't. That would be suspicious as hell."

"Oh, like people with binoculars are suspicious in a tourist sightseeing area!" Lloyd said, exasperated. "Should we wait for them at the entrance until they come out?"

"There are far too many people here. Not only will they probably come to the aid of their Chosen One, well, there are kids there."

It wasn't like kids in Sylvarant were unaccustomed to blood and violence. Many of them had seen relatives beaten and kidnapped by Desians—especially Palmacostan kids. But Lloyd found himself agreeing with Sheena; if there was anything he didn't want to do, it was resemble Desians in word or deed. So they merely waited, watching the geysers, and the people, and one particularly badly-behaved dog that seemed to delight in snapping at anyone who dared to come near him.

Sheena and Lloyd relaxed a bit—it was a sunny, warm day, and the cool breeze from the geysers was particularly refreshing. However, they didn't allow themselves to take their eyes off the entrance to what they now knew was the water seal.

"I find it interesting that there are summon spirits in this world," Sheena said.

"Have you met any from here?" Lloyd asked, watching the bad dog chase its tail through the binoculars.

"No, but as a Tethe'allan summoner, it's part of my education to know all of the spirits, in this world and mine."

"Have you made pacts with any?"

Sheena began to sweat. "Well, um, there's Corinne. A man-made one. Um. We kind of made the pact… together."

"Sheena rescued me from the research institute," Corinne chimed in.

"You mean, you weren't supposed to come with us to Sylvarant?" Lloyd asked the fox.

"Of course not. They needed me for experiments."

"Corinne. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," Sheena patted the little fox on the head.

"But it's true, Sheena. If it weren't for you…"

"They're coming," Lloyd said. He was looking through the binoculars again, at the entrance to the seal. Three people emerged, filthy and exhausted. Genis, looking relieved but a little worried, Raine, looking grim but determined, and the Chosen herself, smiling as always, radiant. Lloyd's couldn't bring himself to lower his gaze from her. She looked like she truly was worthy of the title.

The dog that had snapped at so many passers-by turned on her, too. But she only reached out a hand, despite her protective companions, and patted the dog on the head. It immediately stopped growling, and instead sat down, lowered its hackles, and began to lick her hand. She grinned, stroking the dog's ears, and knelt down to its level. The dog's owner reached out to control his animal and apologize, but the canine only licked the Chosen's face, wagging its tail. She laughed, and slowly turned her head, raising her eyes right to where Lloyd was watching her. He stopped breathing. She seemed to look straight through his binoculars and into his eyes, and their gazes locked for an intense, seemingly infinite moment. She continued smiling, raised a hand as if to greet him, stood up and moved on, leaving a perfectly calm, contented dog in her wake.

* * *

Over the next few days, as they followed the Chosen north toward Hakenosia Peak, Lloyd couldn't bring himself to tell Sheena that she had seen them. She had seen them, and she had not cared. She had only smiled.

Maybe she has some sort of trick up her sleeve, Lloyd thought. Maybe she had a secret weapon and was tempting them to just try to kill her. But somehow he knew it wasn't true. He thought of her almost every second—her gentleness, her dutiful smile, and he secretly knew he couldn't kill her. He just couldn't. He still wasn't sure if he could stop Sheena, though. Despite her reservations, she seemed determined to save her world.

He tore himself apart, silently, while he followed Sheena over the peak and to the north. He imagined himself killing the Chosen, and reeled at the thought. He'd never killed anyone before, but he had seen his father do it. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't glamorous, as tales of Mithos the Hero would attest. But neither was decay. The failing crops, the lack of mana, the Desians—all that would befall Tethe'alla—it wasn't pretty either. And then there was the problem with his father. What if he was already dead? What if…

Lloyd forced himself to not think about it anymore; the exchanges, the sacrifices, the imbalance that the two worlds were forced to endure. There was nothing he could do to change it, at least not right now, not until he found his dad again and asked him a few questions.

In the meantime, he had been reading Virginia's diary. Extensive traveling and Sheena's taciturnity had afforded him the luxury of taking some time to concentrate on it. And the further he got, the surer he became that Raine was Virginia's Raine, and Genis was her second child. But that would make them half-elves. Lloyd couldn't blame Genis for enrolling in the Palmacosta academy as an elf, since being a half-elf in Sylvarant basically meant being a Desian. Still, it angered Lloyd that Genis had to hide his identity to be accepted. But if it was bad here, it was even worse in Tethe'alla. The siblings had been lucky to escape that world and come here. Lloyd hadn't yet arrived at the part of the diary illustrating the travel between one world and the next, but looked forward to getting information about passages that spanned between the two. His father had mentioned three that he knew of, one of which was the Tower of Salvation. Maybe Virginia knew about the other two, but she hadn't mentioned them yet.

Since they had passed over the peak, the Tower of Salvation had been in view. Lloyd couldn't look at it without being reminded of his father, and his failure to protect him. The thought filled Lloyd with shame and anxiety; if he had only been strong enough, if only he had been able to… No. That was enough. He had to stop blaming himself for others' misdeeds, the unfairness and suffering. But he would really like to have someone to blame. Perhaps he could pin this whole mess on that mysterious, cold-eyed stranger that had captured—and probably killed—his father.

He thought of revenge as he sat staring out the inn's window in Luin. He and Sheena checked in as a newlywed couple from Asgard, so they were confident they would be courteously left alone. Lloyd suspected there was a seal around here, so this wasn't a bad place to lie in wait for word of the Chosen. The town was tranquil and the food was good, so he had no problem with it. Sheena, however, was itching to get her job done and get back home.

"I'm going out," she said almost immediately after they entered their room. Their fake identity had necessitated only having one bed, but Lloyd didn't mind sleeping on the floor. He had built himself a little nest with his dirty clothes and decided to take a nap while Sheena was gone, presumably searching for clues.

After a day of lounging and collecting rumors of the Chosen's whereabouts, Sheena burst through their door, panicked. "She's in Asgard," she said.

"That's not surprising," Lloyd answered.

"The next seal is in the Balacruf Mausoleum. We can catch her there. It's not like Thoda—we'll be able to corner her without an audience."

Lloyd jumped up, packed his things, but his head was spinning. This was it, he was going to finish the job... but could he do it? He forced his inner dialogue to shut down while he concentrated on packing his things and getting out of Luin. He, Sheena and Corinne marched out the inn door and straight out of town, due south. It didn't matter that the sun was setting in a few hours, Sheena seemed determined to find the Chosen and kill her this time. She said they would march all night if it came down to it. After a while, when they reached the crest of a large hill, Lloyd looked behind him to the town they had just left.

Something was wrong, very wrong. He fumbled for his binoculars and glanced through them.

"Sheena," he called. "Sheena."

"What?"

"Desians. Look." He handed her the binoculars. Black smoke rose from the center of town. He thought he could hear screams, even from this far away. Sheena grit her teeth and swore. He knew she had learned a bit about the Desians, and the havoc they wrought—he had told her the stories.

Sheena just dropped the binoculars and headed down the far side of the hill.

"Where are you going?" Lloyd shouted. Sheena turned slowly.

"I'm going to kill the Chosen," she answered solemnly. "That is my mission, that is my top priority."

"Sheena, Luin is on fire! They're going to kill half the town and enslave the rest!"

Sheena grimaced. "This is the only chance I'll ever get to save my world."

"How can you even talk about saving the world when you can't even save the people right in front of you?" Lloyd had had enough. He turned back to Luin. "We have to help them. The Chosen will still be there when we're done." He sprinted down the hill, toward the burning town, not bothering to look behind him.

"Lloyd, wait!" Sheena called. She stood there for a moment before she hissed "Oh hell" to herself and ran after him, Corinne trailing close behind.


	7. Luin

By the time they got to Luin, half the town was alight and all of it was teeming with Desians. Lloyd and Sheena snuck between two of the remaining standing buildings and leaned out into Luin's main street.

A group of soldiers were rounding up what looked to be schoolgirls no more than twelve. One of the girls had grabbed a shovel and was bravely defending her classmates, but she was altogether ineffectual against eight or nine grown soldiers with real training and real weapons. One of the men knocked the shovel from her hand and cut her across the arm with his machete.

Rage burned in Lloyd, his exsphere warmed at the prospect of violence, and he couldn't keep himself from giving in. "Wait, don't—" Sheena hissed, but he was already moving. Lloyd sprang from his hiding place, sprinted toward the group, and managed to take out two Desians before the others noticed that a crazy boy had appeared from nowhere to cut them down. They turned on him, and he was glad to see the schoolgirls take their cue to get out of there and rush down a back alley, hopefully to safety. Now he had to deal with the problem of being hopelessly outnumbered.

His father had trained him well enough. With his newly acquired though decidedly ancient sword, he could finally manage to defend himself. He parried and swung just like his father taught him, and was able to keep one or two at bay. However, there were still six soldiers left, continually bearing down on him. He found himself on his knees, raising the sword only to stave off the dozens of blows that came down on him, losing hope rapidly.

In his moment of desperation, his exsphere began to glow faintly. He felt a surge of warmth burst from his hand, and strength rolled through his veins, around his heart and out his muscles. He grunted and swung upward with such force the blade left a blue glow in its wake. The Desians backed off momentarily, discouraged by his sudden show of power, but redoubled their efforts and sprang in to take him down.

Then Sheena was there, seemingly out of nowhere, spinning what looked to be a deck of cards in her hands. Suddenly a burst of fire and white smoke engulfed their attackers. When Lloyd struggled upright and the smoke finally cleared, there were nine dead Desians at their feet, charred to a crisp. Sheena and Lloyd remained unburnt and unharmed.

"What was that?" Lloyd asked as he flicked blood from his sword and trotted up to her.

"Family secret," she replied, panting.

"Well, keep that up, and Luin could be saved."

"Yeah," she answered, but didn't look convinced.

They ran down the main street and to the town square, where most of the residents of Luin had grouped. Lloyd didn't know if they had decided to take refuge there but then were ambushed by Desians, or if they had been herded there for roundup. Either way, there were hundreds of people, all jostling, screaming, being prodded from all sides by Desians. Lloyd didn't know if he could take all of them on, but he had to try.

"Wait, Lloyd!" he heard Sheena yell after him as he jumped on the nearest Desian. He finished him off and rounded on the next one, who was already swinging his spear at him. Lloyd parried uncertainly, but managed to poke a hole in the Desians' tight fence. Townspeople began to leak out, avoiding the remaining guards, and they scattered to safety. A few dozen people managed to escape before the Desians regained control of the crowd, and sent extra soldiers after these two mysterious armed travelers who hoped to unravel their plans.

Lloyd was driven back to the edge of the square, exsphere glowing, muscles shaking, cursing his decision to jump in the fray without thinking. Again, Sheena came to his rescue.

"I'm sorry, grandpa," she said quietly before raising her cards high over her head. White light blanketed the scene for a split-second, and then, from the hazy gleam, a monster emerged.

Lloyd couldn't help but scream in surprise. The floating, long-fingered thing bore down on the Desians, stabbing, slashing, and swiping with its massive claws. Mercifully, it avoided the townspeople, instead choosing to mow down as many Desians as it could. After a few minutes of absolute carnage, the Desians estimated their chances of taking Luin were simply not good, and, to Lloyd's and the entire town's delight, they called a retreat.

Sheena's death-monster followed them a ways out of town, hacking and slashing with its knife-like fingers, before returning to her. In full view of the terrified townspeople, she bowed deeply to the creature. It nodded and disappeared in a puff of grey smoke.

"What in the hell was that thing?" Lloyd muttered angrily, realizing the town was watching them.

"It was meant for the Chosen," Sheena answered quietly.

A man who looked to be in charge separated himself from the crowd and approached them. "Strangers," he said solemnly. "I don't know what that monster was, but it saved us today—you saved us today. And for that I thank you. You can stay here for the night, and we'll feed you."

Lloyd and Sheena looked at each other and smiled weakly. It was tacitly agreed between them that the assassination of the Chosen could wait, for now. Instead they spent the evening tallying up the dead, the missing, and the injured. Seventeen casualties, sixty-seven when you counted the dead Desians. Forty injured, twenty-three missing. Lloyd helped carry the dead and injured to the right places, bound wounds, administered medicine, and altogether made himself handy.

He was wrapping a civilian's injured hand when one of the schoolgirls he had helped, the one with the shovel, sat down opposite him. "Thank you," she said. He noticed there was a spatter of blood on her cheek.

"I did what I could," he answered. The villager squeaked as Lloyd tightened the gauze on her wrist.

"They took my older brother."

"I'm sorry."

"Teach me to fight."

Lloyd smiled. Many Sylvaranti kids, especially those who lived near human ranches, either were taught to fight or wanted to learn. When it came down to it, though, there wasn't much they could do to protect their townships and families. There were too many Desians, too well-trained and too well-armed, and there was nothing a child could do about it, even if she was proficient with a weapon.

He put an arm on hers, accidentally wiping some blood on her sleeve. "I can't. I'm sorry. But I promise, if they come back, I'll defend you."

There was no doubt that they would come back. Perhaps in a day, maybe a week. However long it took them to regroup, resupply and relaunch an attack, they would. The people of Luin would have to fortify the town, devise an attack and escape plan, keep the injured and the incapable in a safe place, arm all able bodies, make sure they had enough food for a siege… and Lloyd didn't know how much time they had. Not enough, probably.

He and Sheena slept in the Mayor's house that night. They tried to avoid the inn, where they may be recognized as "that married couple," and they wanted to avoid any questions. Right now, however, most of the town was not concerned with the secret lives of these two travelers that had saved them; they were more preoccupied with preparations for the next Desian invasion.

"That's some exsphere you have there," Sheena told him as they helped reinforce the doors to the Church of Martel, which would serve as the town's stronghold.

"Yeah," Lloyd answered vaguely.

"Did the Renegades give one to you, too?"

"Oh. No, I found this one."

"Where could you find one like that?" Sheena seemed genuinely interested, but Lloyd didn't really want to talk about it at that particular moment.

"It's a family secret."

Sheena smirked, taking the hint. Lloyd was recruited to help make sure there were enough boats to ferry survivors across the lake should an evacuation be necessary, and they didn't speak again until late that night, over some midnight tea.

"I didn't know things were so bad here," Sheena said.

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked, swirling more sugar than he needed in his tea.

"I mean the Desians. It's like Sylvarant is always at war."

Lloyd shrugged. "Some towns have peace treaties with them. They supply some slaves, the Desians supply security to the town." Lloyd had had some friends and acquaintances taken away to the ranch when he lived in Palmacosta, and he was familiar with the pain of losing friends, and the hopelessness of a town being sucked dry. But he didn't know which was worse: being at the mercy of the Desians, or being complicit in their cruelty. Either way, there was no winning, because people here had no power. Not like they had in Tethe'alla, with their technology and military prowess.

"You know," Sheena continued, "Tethe'alla used to have something like the Desians. But with the success of the World Regeneration, they disappeared. I guess this is why the Chosen gives people so much hope."

Lloyd briefly considered asking her if she was thinking about abandoning her mission to assassinate the Chosen, but he thought the better of it. It would be equivalent to asking her if she was willing to condemn her world to decline, decay, and death. Lloyd knew she wouldn't, but he also had a nagging suspicion that after seeing what she'd seen here, she didn't exactly want to condemn Sylvarant, either. On either side of this unbalanced system there were people suffering, no matter what. Her mission would not change that.

She seemed to sense what he was thinking, and excused herself before he could bring the topic up in conversation. She slunk back into the shadows, telling Lloyd to have a good sleep, and disappeared. Lloyd thought long and hard about the Chosen, her smile, her grit, and her profound aura of innocence. He wondered if she knew there was another world, a world opposite hers, that she would destroy if she saved her own. Maybe she was struggling in the same way as Sheena, but was better at hiding it. Either way, she, and Sheena, and Lloyd, and everyone, come to think of it, were so deeply embroiled in this world of injustice and savagery that there may not be anything they could do about it.

It was the kind of thought that could keep Lloyd up all night, seething, but this night, after all his hard work on Luin, he passed out as soon as he hit the pillow.

* * *

It was less than a week before the Desians attacked again. This time, they brought twice as many soldiers, better weaponry, and three massive caged vehicles, presumably for carrying the townspeople back to the ranch. Lloyd, standing on a rooftop with Sheena and surveying the landscape with his trusty binoculars, immediately knew evacuations were in order.

"Do you have another one of those… monster-things?" he asked Sheena.

"Yes."

"We're gonna need it. This doesn't look good."

Corinne had been suspiciously silent about the issue of Sheena using all of her summoned monsters for this particular side quest instead of for their intended purpose, but Lloyd could tell the fox was fidgeting about it. Lloyd knew both of them were concerned for their world, and they were throwing out their best weaponry to save the place they were assigned to destroy.

Lloyd forced himself to abandon thinking about such circular dilemmas. Now wasn't the time. He and Sheena made their way down to the street, where those who could not fight were either holing themselves up in the Church of Martel or loading up onto the rowboats that would take them across the lake and to safety. Lloyd and Sheena met in the town square with the other citizens taking up arms. Half these people looked too young to defend themselves or their town, a quarter too old, and the other quarter untrained and weak. They were a community of fishermen and farmers, and their weapons of choice seemed to be pitchforks, fishing spears, decorative swords that had rusted too long on the wall, and in one familiar schoolgirl's case, a shovel. Lloyd was able to spy her among her armed comrades, looking scared but determined. He wished he could tell her to get on the boats with the other kids, to save herself, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to convince her. Besides, who was he to tell her she couldn't fight for her loved ones, even if it was hopeless? It was something his father would've done to him—forced him on one of the boats, denied him the opportunity to defend those he held close. He was determined not to turn out like his father: mistrustful, cold and uncompromising.

Again, Lloyd found himself thinking too hard when he should be focusing on what was right in front of him, in this case, a horde of Desians, bloodthirsty and fully armed, marching down Luin's main street. He drew his sword and his exsphere glowed warmly, as if in anticipation. The power radiating from it filled him with assurance and strength, and when he strode toward the incoming Desians, he felt as ready as ever. As he raised his sword, a piercing white light engulfed the square, and another long-fingered monster sprung from Sheena's cards. It flew toward the Desians, raking its claws against the stone street almost joyously. Lloyd smiled and followed the monster into the fray.

The citizens of Luin were untrained, disorganized, and altogether poor soldiers, but they were brave, braver than Lloyd had supposed. One by one, as Lloyd expected, they were beaten down and dragged off, or else killed and abandoned to bleed on the street. But they never seemed to give up. When one citizen watched his or her compatriot fall, the Desian responsible for it would no doubt receive a spear to the face or a club to the back of the head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd spied the schoolgirl with the shovel, now disarmed and being dragged off by the hair. She kicked and screamed, refusing to give up, and managed to at least give the Desians kidnapping her a hard time. Lloyd left the main square and ran down the side street into which the Desians had dragged her. His exsphere pulsed, thirsty for action, and he was more than willing to oblige.

He sprinted toward the three Desians and the incapacitated schoolgirl, piercing the nearest one through the stomach before turning on the other two. They dropped the girl and turned on him. Evidently thinking that getting rescued twice by the same person was monumentally embarrassing, the girl refused to run this time. She stole the dead Desian's sword and jumped up beside Lloyd.

Her determination encouraged him. She may not be good, or skilled, or even very strong, but if she kept up with this kind of resolve, she may be of some use. They took on the last two Desians, driving them back to the end of the street through sheer rage.

Right when Lloyd thought that there may be some hope for the town, he felt something blunt and powerful strike his back. A burning ache spread through him and his legs went limp. He heard the schoolgirl scream as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, dropping his sword with a hope-shattering clang. Something hit him again, harder this time, right between his shoulder blades. His lungs pushed out the last of his air and his head swirled.

Between the anxious screams of the girl, he could hear a celebratory whoop from whoever hit him. His body went completely limp and he could only lie there as his attackers manhandled him. He felt hands wrap around his ankles and drag him across the cobblestone before, racked with pain, he passed out.

* * *

Sheena was the only one left. The other people of Luin had either died, been taken, or had escaped by boat. Even those locked up in the presumably safe Church of Martel were rounded up and sent off to the ranch. Sheena didn't know why they missed her, and she didn't care. All she knew was that she was alone, and that she was about to die.

She sat against Luin's iconic fountain, now a wet pile of rubble, and cupped her wounds. Corinne sat beside her, frantic.

"Sheena, don't die," the little fox whined. "Stay here, I'll look for Lloyd."

I should've just gone after the Chosen, she thought. I should've never got mixed up in this. Why'd I listen to Lloyd about saving the town? That damn stupid kid. He knew better than me that this place was totally screwed.

Sheena knew that it wasn't the right time to think about that sort of thing. She had done what she had done. She had done what she knew was right. And she had paid deeply for it. Perhaps this world wasn't meant to die. Perhaps…

She slipped in and out of consciousness, in a haze of pain. She thought she saw angels, or relatives, or whoever was waiting beyond those pearly gates to welcome her into death, slowly coming toward her, nothing but silhouettes in the mist…

And all of a sudden, the Chosen, the girl she had sworn to kill, was there, leaning over her. Her big blue eyes were teary, and she wore the most solicitous frown Sheena had ever seen. Sheena couldn't bring herself to even think about killing her now—she was too weak, and the Chosen was too kind.

"Colette, get away from her."

"But she's hurt."

"It could be a trap."

"I don't care. She needs help."

"Yeah, Raine, just help her."

"Fine. But you're all too soft-hearted for your own good."

Sheena felt warmth course through her. Her wounds slowly healed, and her nausea and pain faded. She opened her eyes for what felt like the first time in her life, and spied three people leaning over her.

One Sheena knew to be the Chosen. The other two, she had no idea.

"Where's your friend?" the Chosen asked. "What happened here?"

Sheena was trying to recall the events of the past few hours when Corinne crept from the shadows and curled on her lap, growling softly at her three new acquaintances.

"I don't know… wait," Sheena groaned. "Desians. They attacked the town. I tried to help them but… there were too many. They…" Corinne crawled onto her shoulder and whispered in her ear. The fox told her that Lloyd was nowhere to be found. He was probably taken with the rest of the town.

"Where's Lloyd? Weren't you traveling with him?" one of the Chosen's companions asked, a boy who looked about thirteen.

"Lloyd, yes," she said slowly, trying to clear her mind. "They… they took him." She buried her face in her hands. "They took everyone."

"Well, we can't just leave him!" the boy said.

"Absolutely we can," the older woman replied.

"Raine, please! He's my friend, and I'm sure he'd help us with the Regeneration if we only asked!"

"Genis! Do you know what you're saying? You're suggesting that we invade a human ranch, jeopardizing the Chosen and the entire World Regeneration, just to save your schoolmate?"

"I agree with Genis," the Chosen said. "We can't just leave him. Especially if he's a friend."

"I swear, you're making a huge mistake."

Sheena's pain had subsided but her weakness didn't. She knew she couldn't go through with her mission, not yet, not after they had healed her. Not after the Chosen had shown her such kindness. It was wholly dishonorable.

"At least tell us what we need to know," the Chosen's older companion said. "Tell us why you're trying to kill the Chosen. And why you don't want the world saved."

"Oh, boy," Sheena almost laughed. "It's going to be a long story…"


	8. The Ranch

Lloyd awoke slowly. When he was finally fully conscious, he found himself wishing that he had not woken at all. His legs hurt, his head hurt, his hands hurt… but his back most of all. He groaned and turned on his side, only to find his hands bound tightly behind him. He wondered where he was… in Palmacosta? Did he get in trouble at school—was this someone's idea of a joke? Maybe he was in an inn? At home? Where was home, anyway… And where was his dad? And mother?

"He's awake," he heard someone say.

"Good. Let's see what that thing can do."

Bright light flooded his vision, and he shut his eyes against it. He turned his head from side to side, and tried to free his hands so he could cover his eyes, but there was no escaping the burning, searing whiteness. Rough hands grabbed his arms and tugged him to his feet. His legs shook, his eyes burned, he could hardly stand, but he kept his footing as he was dragged and jostled down what he assumed was a hall.

He couldn't see anything but grey shadows against the bright light. Above his own gasping breath could hear the clinking of boots echo sharply down the hall. The harsh, inorganic smell in this place was overpowering—metal, steam, some sour, acidic scent that made his nostrils twitch. The air seemed to be clean, but discomfortingly so.

He didn't have much time to take in his surroundings before his captors dragged him through a doorway and shoved him forward. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth at the pain in his sore muscles. He began to suspect they were going to kill him, and braced himself for a knife in the back or an axe to the head.

And suddenly he was alone, and his hands were free. He dared to open his eyes and had to shield them from the overwhelming light. Through the cracks in his lids he could see he was in an expansive metal chamber lit with buzzing white bulbs. After a few seconds he took his arm away from his eyes and looked around in earnest. He seemed to be alone in the vast room, and there was no sound except for the high-pitched humming of the lights.

High up on one of the walls, he could see a window, but he couldn't see what was behind it. He squinted, and thought he could barely make out a humanoid shadow on the other side, but the windows were tinted too darkly for him to be sure. A shiver crept through him when he realized he was probably being watched.

On the far end of the room, part of the wall opened and a massive man emerged, equipped with two swords, fully armored. Lloyd thought for one irrational second that he might be dead, and that now he was to fight for a place in paradise. Or, on second thought, he might still be alive and this was the method of his execution. Either way, the thought of death hovered over him, and his exsphere responded accordingly, jolting him fully awake and sending energy through him.

He looked at his opponent, helmeted like a Desian, and realized that he must be at the human ranch. So this really was his execution. Well, he wouldn't give the bastards the pleasure—he would fight. To his surprise his executioner threw one of the swords his way. It rolled, clanging, to his feet, and he picked it up. He didn't know why they decided to let him defend himself, but if they wanted him to fight, he would. He gripped the sword and raised it above his head. The other man sprang at him and struck with such force Lloyd stumbled back into the wall. The tremor of the impact shot through his sword and down his arm, rattling his shoulder and ribs. His exsphere responded by sending a shock of power through him and he turned and swung, forcing his executioner to retreat.

The fight consisted of a hardly varied routine, to Lloyd's surprise. It was remarkably similar to his father's training: parry and swing, back up and advance, guard and strike. Unfortunately, right when Lloyd got used to the rhythm of the whole thing, he started to tire. His attacker could tell, and launched a full-out offensive, driving him back into the wall, hammering at him. Lloyd, arms shaking, took the blows one by one, until he felt his exsphere start to burn. Power he couldn't begin to comprehend flowed through him, and he gripped the sword so tight he thought it might break in his hands. He screamed, and with two-handed stroke he cut through his attacker's gauntlet, into his forearm and out the other side. The Desian's arm, hand still clutching his sword, fell to the floor, followed by a spray of blood. Lloyd took his opportunity and thrust the tip of his sword through the man's throat.

The body fell to the floor, and Lloyd, panting, collapsed against the wall. He wondered if he had just fought for his freedom. He looked up at the tinted windows at the far corner of the room, but they were as lifeless as before. "What now?" he screamed at them. "Is that what you wanted? For me to kill?"

No reply, no sound, just the buzzing lights. Lloyd's breathing slowed, and his exsphere quieted down, losing its pale glow. He stepped over the still-bleeding body and started to make for the opposite wall, where he knew the door was. He didn't get very far before it opened and in strode another assailant, this time armed with a spear. Lloyd grit his teeth and swore.

The second fight ended much like the first, with a dead Desian crumpled on the floor and Lloyd panting against the wall, exhausted. He glanced up to the windows again, and by this time he was absolutely sure he was being watched. He didn't have time to yell anything profound or profane at whoever was behind the windows before the door opened again, and in strode two Desians, each armed with a whip and machete.

Lloyd had more trouble with this fight, for obvious reasons, but eventually his exsphere gave him enough strength to finish it. He had sustained a few wounds, though, and when he collapsed against the wall this time, he left a streak of blood. He barely had enough time to pull himself to his feet when the door opened yet again and another Desian entered.

This one was different—unhelmeted, unarmored, smiling, his eerie, greedy eyes wide-set below slicked blond hair. Lloyd's stomach instinctively turned at the sight of him.

"Lovely, just lovely," he said, almost genially. "To think someone like you could do that. Truly, a superior product. Unfortunately, it's wasted on you."

Lloyd's legs shook, but he raised his sword and pointed it at the stranger. He stepped over the two newest corpses and lunged at him, only to have his sword swept aside by the man's staff. Lloyd felt a blunt impact on his cheek as the Desian smacked him across the face almost playfully.

"You're going to have to try harder if you want to keep that exsphere," he said.

So Lloyd tried, and Lloyd failed. Every time he tried to land a blow, that staff was there, driving him away and delivering an irritating smack, mostly to the face and neck. Lloyd's face was so swollen he could hardly see, but he still fought, never managing to make it through this man's defense. With each deflected blow he grew more frustrated, resorting to clumsier, angrier swings. After a few remarkably pathetic minutes of this, the Desian drove the butt of his staff into the ground and raised his free hand.

Since the man had lowered his guard, Lloyd didn't want to waste the opportunity and moved in for the kill. But as he raised his sword above his head, time seemed to slow. Lloyd's hair stood on end and a strange tingling sensation crept through him. It was like he was standing on the edge of something big, something powerful, but never quite—then suddenly, the big thing came, fast, hard, in the form of blue lightning. It tore through him, ripping his veins apart like a thousand searing knives. He barely had enough time to scream before he dropped his sword and followed it to the floor, crumpled and weak like discarded paper. Goddess, he had never been in so much pain in his life. He curled and writhed, spitting curses, muscles twitching. His eyes teared up, and he swore he could smell something burning. He could barely hear the Desian chuckle pleasantly over his own struggled wheezing.

"It was quite amusing while it lasted," he said, turning Lloyd over with his foot. "Too bad. I would've liked to see more. But we all can't have what we want." He knelt down, pinning Lloyd's arm with his knee, and reached over for his hand. Lloyd, still half-blind with pain, could feel fingers wiggle between his exsphere and his skin. No, dammit. He wasn't going to take it…

His whole hand burned, and a searing power shot down his arm. It felt like all of his muscles and his veins were splitting, and he screamed. In a burst of pain, blue light sprang from his exsphere, knocking the Desian back into the air. Lloyd managed to sit up, shaking, and spied the man struggling to his feet way on the other side of the room. He wondered where that power had come from and what had triggered it.

"Ha! Excellent!" The Desian, despite everything, seemed elated. "Beautiful, absolutely wonderful! It has a mind of its own!" He strode toward Lloyd, unfazed. "Perhaps it's trying to… no… that would be too poetic."

Lloyd rolled onto his knees, trembling, and tried to stand. The Desian gave him a heavy kick to the jaw and he fell back down, vision darkening. He could hear the Desian's calm but unnerving voice somewhere above him.

"This must be her fault. Yes, she left it with you, didn't she? If it is protecting you, we may need to take a few extra precautions when we remove it. Perhaps it will be necessary to cut off your hand? Maybe your entire arm?" Lloyd groaned. "What was that?" the Desian asked, leaning in. "Did you say something?"

Lloyd mustered up all the strength he had left in his body. "Eat… shit," he managed to spit before he lost consciousness.

* * *

The voices danced around him, but he still couldn't see anything. He could barely feel, barely think. Sensations and noises passed through him like sand through a sieve. He tried to move his legs, and couldn't. He tried to move his arms, and couldn't. But there was pain, especially in his left hand. He twitched his fingers and immediately regretted it. He groaned.

"Be careful now, if you please. I'd rather he be intact. If his blood is anything like his mother's, he'll produce a truly superior product."

His mother… perhaps these voices would be able to tell him about her. Maybe he should ask. Maybe they knew where his father was… Maybe he could… try harder at school. And listen to his parents. Maybe today his mother could pick him up from the academy, and they could go to the harbor… to watch the ships… If he could fix his hand—gods, if only he could stop the pain in his hand, everything would be fine…

"Mother…" was all he was able to groan.

"Oh dear, he seems to be waking up. Better he not be able to tell his exsphere what's going on here, or we'll have some complications."

Something pinched his neck sharply. A warm fluid flooded his blood, lulling him back into the grey, cloudy numbness of sleep. The pain in his hand gradually declined, and he thought that for sure this afternoon he'd be able to see his mother after school. After school… Genis could come too. After…

* * *

Lloyd was freezing and sore, and couldn't even tell if it was light outside. Everything around him was quiet, dimly lit by electric lamps nestled in the walls. He seemed to be on a filthy cot of some sort, dressed in itchy rags that looked like they had been cut from burlap. He sat up slowly to examine himself. He had all of his limbs, even all of his fingers, but on the back of his hand where he had attached his key crest and exsphere, there was some sort of bandage. He picked at the edges, wincing at the pain, and managed to pull it away. On the back of his bloodstained hand was no exsphere but a sutured slit, crusted with dried fluid. He examined it more closely and between the stitches he could see a shiny red scab forming. Lloyd grit his teeth and replaced the bandage.

So here he was. He was one of the unlucky ones, the humans who were fated to work to death at the ranch. He was one of the mourned, the missed, and the mercifully forgotten. Just like so many others.

He wondered what they had done with his clothes, his things… his hand instinctively shot to his neck, where he searched for the locket containing the portrait of his family. They had taken that, too. His hand fell away from his neck, and he lay back down on the lumpy cot.

Maybe this was his punishment for agreeing to assassinate the Chosen. Martel knows it's probably just as much as he deserved. That's what he gets for trying to choose one world over the other. He lost himself in thoughts of injustice, cruelty, suffering… and then his mind settled on the unnerving dream he had the night before... or the hallucination he had, he wasn't sure. But he was sure that he had seen his mother, that he had heard voices speak of her. He remembered the chilling voice of the Desian that had stolen his exsphere, he had said something about his mother's blood... gah. He couldn't remember. His head hurt like hell and his memory was hazy. He thought he should just try to go back to sleep, to rest his aching brain.

Then an alarm screamed through the air, so harsh and so loud Lloyd almost pissed himself. He covered his ears and got up, but before he could walk to the door of his cell to see what was going on, it swung open and three Desians entered, fully armed and grinning.

"Wake up, kid. It's your first day on the job."

Lloyd just stared at them.

"Better hop to it, then. Lord Kvar is going to keep track of your progress personally, and you wouldn't want to give him anything but your best."

They prodded Lloyd out of the cell and down the hall, where he stumbled into walls, tripped over himself, blind with panic and deaf from the constant screech of the alarm. Soon he was outside, pushed into a group of other bewildered, battered and hopeless prisoners, similarly dressed and equally panicked. Lloyd looked around to see if Sheena had been captured as well, but couldn't find her. Of course, that didn't guarantee she was safe, but it gave him a glimmer of hope.

He didn't have much time to think about the welfare of his friend because he was suddenly swept up in a current of shaking, anxious prisoners. He found himself herded like the rest of them toward the edge of the prisonyard, where a platform stood beneath towering fences of barbed wire. On the platform loafed a Desian, looking bored and surrounded by guards. He made a quick joke to one of his comrades, chuckled to himself, then readopting his bored face, he lifted up a piece of paper and began to read.

"Welcome to the Asgard Human Ranch," he yelled. One woman near Lloyd immediately fell to the ground, sobbing, as if she had just realized where she was. The Desian on the platform kept on with his speech, raising his voice above hers. "You will be keeping a tight schedule. Any deviation from this schedule will be met with punishment. Any insolence or disobedience will be met with punishment. Failure to reach the desired weekly work quota will be met with punishment. Stealing, hoarding, or selling rations will be met with punishment. Anyone who attempts an escape will be executed on the spot." Someone next to Lloyd fainted. He and a couple others bent down to help, and were shouted at. "Any other transgressions will be punished appropriately, at the discretion of the overseeing officer. You will be receiving two meals a day, and every night you will return to your cell when the bell sounds. For matters of hygiene, privacy, and privy schedules, speak with others of your respective blocks. Now, get to work."

The prisoners scattered, each herded to a different place according to his or her number. A few panicked, tried to fight back, and were beat down or threatened into complacency. Lloyd tried to hide his horror as he followed others of his block to their required places. He scanned the edge of the yard, not sure what he was looking for. Maybe Sheena, maybe an escape, maybe… and then he saw him. The tall, blond Desian that had taken his exsphere. He clenched his fists and looked him over, his proud stature, his air of authority, and he guessed it might be the Lord Kvar the guards had mentioned. He certainly did look lordly, in a twisted, smug sort of way. As if the man knew he was being watched, he lowered his gaze and met Lloyd's. Lloyd froze, unable to take his eyes from Kvar's. As the Desian slowly grinned, an unsettling chill rattled through Lloyd's spine. He felt nauseated all of a sudden, his heart skipped a beat, his hands shook. But before he could figure out what Kvar's strange grin was doing to him, he was jostled away by his fellow prisoners, all trying to get to their assigned places for fear of a beating.

But Kvar's smile had stirred something deep, something dark within him, and he was suddenly terrified. Not so much of Kvar, but the sinking, burning hatred he felt—he didn't know where it had come from or where it would lead him. But as he saw the gaunt, horrified faces of the prisoners around him, as he watched the guards cut down a panicked prisoner begging for her life, when he felt the hope drain from all the people around him, he decided he would follow that hatred wherever it took him. It would lead him out, it would lead him back to his exsphere, it would lead him to freedom. Then, as quickly as it came, the hatred disappeared, and a resigned resolution took its place. Lloyd swallowed his fury and decided that for the sake of revenge, he was going to stay alive.


	9. Kvar

"Did you hear about Pedro?"

"No way. Did he really get out?"

"Shh! Everyone, be quiet!"

"No, seriously."

"He did!"

"What?"

"They're going to kill everyone on his block if none of 'em fesses up to helping him."

"Well, who helped him?"

"I dunno, some girl."

Lloyd heard a lot of things in the mess hall, but this one made his stomach drop. Of course, he was sure everyone had their own fantasies of escape, even he did, but he had never heard of someone actually doing it. Despite his best efforts not to get too optimistic, it gave him some hope. But he didn't like the sound of the mass execution that seemed to be imminent on the ranch's public schedule. He wanted to ask the other prisoners about Pedro, he wanted to know if there was a way he could get out, but he couldn't. If he talked with them, the Desians would know that the prisoners were discussing an escapee, and punishment would soon follow. They were watching him closely, far more closely than they watched the others.

He didn't know why. He seemed to be doing about the same work as everyone else. Sure, they kept him working bigger projects and longer hours than most of the others, but he was an able-bodied young man with strong arms, so why wouldn't they? They sometimes liked to force him to skip meals, and got too much pleasure in finding sorry excuses to beat him. But they did that with others, too. If you were unlucky enough to look at one of the guards the wrong way, or if they just plain didn't like you, they'd go out of their way to make your life hell. They didn't seem to have anything better to do.

What was different about his schedule, though, was that it periodically required invasive examinations that he was sure others didn't get. Sometimes they were tests of strength, sometimes endurance. They would often make him push a large metal block across the yard pointlessly for hours, while guards and internees alike watched. One time they made him fistfight a fellow prisoner. When Lloyd initially refused to fight the man, they grabbed a random prisoner and beat her until he acquiesced. Most of the tests they did were administered in the medical wing of the ranch. They would draw his blood, cut open his hand and examine the crystalline exsphere that was growing slowly inside. And always, Kvar was there, watching and smirking but rarely speaking.

Within his first few days of living at the ranch, Lloyd had learned from another man in his block that this was how exspheres were made. "First, they shoot you up with something, I don't know what," he told Lloyd over a sickening meal of gruel. "Then, after the thing has had enough time to incubate, they put you to work."

"Why do they make you work?" Lloyd asked. He had always assumed that there was some kind of mining operation done in these places to produce exspheres. But now that he knew they grew inside people, it seemed as if the manufacturing process would take care of itself.

"Because exspheres respond to stress and pain the most, right?" The man shoveled some of the brown goo into his mouth. "In order to get one, you have to work the host. I mean, really work. You have to really make 'em suffer." Lloyd didn't know how he could be talking so nonchalantly about this, but listened anyway. "So, after who knows how long, months or years, sometimes a lifetime, they take you into the medical wing to get your exsphere taken out." He paused.

"And then what?" Lloyd asked.

"And then you die."

A chill went through Lloyd and he couldn't help but examine his bandaged hand. His arm shook slightly, and he glanced back at the man across form him before standing up.

"Wait, kid, sit back down, they'll see you."

Lloyd knew they were already watching him. They watched his every move. He swung his leg over the rusty metal bench and walked to the edge of the mess hall. A hush fell over the hall, and the two Desians on meal duty called out to him, telling him to sit back down. Instead Lloyd walked over to the far corner, where a little black camera stood, watching silently, always watching. Lloyd leaned into the camera, and hoped Kvar was on the other side.

The dark, unnerving hatred inside him bubbled to the surface once more at the thought of the smirking Desian. It spread like a sickness through his veins, numbing his mind.

"Get your ass back to your table!" Lloyd barely heard the guards yell. "Or we'll come over there and make you!"

Lloyd only stared into the camera, with each millisecond more and more sure that Kvar was on the other side, watching. "Listen here, you bastard," he hissed into the lens. "You're not gonna get away with this. I'm gonna make sure you—" He didn't have time to finish before the two guards on duty grabbed his arms and dragged him away from the camera. Lloyd swung his arms, kicked and screamed. Before he could land a good punch in, the guards had already beaten him into the ground. Just to make sure he didn't get up and give them more trouble, one of them stomped on his stomach until what little gruel he had eaten came up again. Satisfied with their disciplinary measures, the Desians left him lying there, shaking.

"If any of you help him up you're gonna get the same treatment," one of them said. So no one moved while the guards sauntered back across the hall, chuckling and joking. Lloyd lay on the floor for a few minutes and listened to the other prisoners slurp and chew in complete silence. When he could breathe properly again, he struggled to his feet and stumbled back to his table. He collapsed onto the bench and spit blood into his bowl of grey goop. The man across from him glanced worriedly at him but didn't dare speak. The entire hall was silent for the remainder of the meal; only the clinks of rusty metal forks and quiet chewing sounded through the mess hall. After that, Lloyd didn't see the man again. He assumed he was dead.

That was early in the game, though, before Lloyd learned the rules. It wasn't so much the beatings, the insults, and various other punishments that taught him to control himself, it was Kvar's reaction to his outbursts. Every time Lloyd disobeyed, fought back, argued or otherwise misbehaved, the worst part of his punishment would be the joy he saw that Kvar was getting out of it. The first few times he was beaten in the yard, the Desian lord hovered over him like a vulture over a corpse, grinning the whole time. Shortly after his outburst at the camera, Kvar made it painfully clear he was pleased by having a hard loaf of bread delivered to his cell. Lloyd decided that even if he didn't quite understand Kvar's particular brand of sadism, he wasn't going to give the man what he wanted. So he forced himself to quiet down, to rage inwardly, to nurse that black, twisting hatred inside himself. Every day he told himself that Kvar would die by his hands. But in the meantime, he took the blows, did the work, and endured the invasive examinations, all so that he could deprive that bastard of what he craved most.

As if somehow alert to Lloyd's plan to lay low, Kvar seemed to have decided to follow him everywhere he went. Whatever yard he was assigned to that day, he would briefly look up from his work to inevitably find Kvar, standing high above him, surveying the labor. One time he was beaten down for staring at him for too long. He could feel Kvar smiling at that, smiling at every little time Lloyd's life got a little worse. And the seething anger inside Lloyd bubbled up, making his muscles shake, compelling him to plan his revenge. I will kill him, Lloyd told himself. I will kill him. I will survive, and I will kill him.

* * *

A few days after Pedro escaped (no one really knew if he had gotten away with it or if the Desians had hunted him down and just hadn't brought his body back yet), Lloyd was brought into the medical wing for his routine examination. He had woken up that morning as he had woken up every morning since his arrival at the ranch—to the sound of the screeching alarm—and nothing about that day felt different. He sat in the usual chair, attended to by the usual hooded physician, who carefully strapped his wrists to the chair arms and his feet to the ground. They rubbed some brown liquid on the inside of his right elbow, slid a needle into his skin, and filled the syringe with his blood. He was used to this by now—he didn't even flinch when he watched the needle go in and come out. The syringe was handed back into a small crowd of clinical assistants and disappeared into the shadows.

Lloyd heard the familiar sound of the medical door swishing open, and suddenly Kvar was beside him, too close, smiling as usual. "How are we feeling today?" Lloyd didn't answer, since he knew whatever he would say would get him smacked and make the Desian's day. "Not so well, I take it," Kvar continued. "Oh well, let's just see what you've been up to these past couple weeks." He nodded to the physician, who cleaned Lloyd's hand and ran a scalpel across it.

Lloyd grit his teeth as a bead of blood appeared from the cut and rolled down the side of his hand. His arm shook a little, and the doctor stilled his wrist as his skin was parted and the crystal beneath revealed. Lloyd couldn't help but glance over the shoulder of the physician, and he spied a small smattering of crystalline cells growing beneath his skin. He shivered. They had cut him several times, but he still never expected to see that strange rock.

Kvar, however, was less affected by the sight of the tiny growth. "I'm disappointed, Lloyd. Truly disappointed. You could've done much better." Kvar turned on him and gripped his cheeks, squishing his mouth. A cut on his lip received a while ago from a beating split open and began to bleed. "Your bitch mother did a much better job than you."

Lloyd struggled at his bonds, trying to free his hands so he could strangle Kvar, put out his eyes, rip off his head. He groaned helplessly, torturing his arms trying to escape. Kvar still clutched his cheeks so he couldn't spit the myriad insults he had boiling up inside of him, but he hoped the fury in his face was enough. His raised heartbeat and excited muscles made his hand spurt blood.

"My lord, please," he heard the physician say. "Getting him riled up will not make it grow any faster."

Kvar laughed, smacking Lloyd's cheek playfully. "I'm sure he'll provide us with something truly extraordinary. That is, if he manages to live up to his legacy."

Lloyd bit his tongue, repeating his cathartic mantra to himself: "I will kill him. In time, I will kill him. I will survive, he will die. I will kill him…" He didn't notice the blood dripping from his mouth until the doctor wiped his face with a wet cloth.

"Don't get too excited, Lloyd," Kvar said, visibly amused. "Your day isn't done yet." The Desian stood up, patted him on the head and made his exit. The physician stitched up Lloyd's hand, deftly and quickly, as he was as used to this routine as Lloyd.

When Lloyd was released into the courtyard, fuming and clenching his uninjured hand, he saw that his captors had set up a gallows on the far end of the yard. Lloyd followed the crowd, pushed and jostled to get a good view of who was being hanged. Lloyd's heart nearly stopped, and his stomach turned over.

"For the crime of assisting subject 18235 in his escape, we hereby exterminate subject 20191," a Desian from the platform read aloud, obviously bored. He discarded the decree and grabbed the noose hastily, clumsily, as if he had much better things to do with his morning than condemn a prisoner to die. With that, he wrapped the noose around the neck of the girl from Luin that Lloyd had saved twice, the defiant, shovel-wielding schoolgirl. She still looked as recalcitrant as ever, with a stiff frown on her face and a fire in her eyes, even in the face of death.

Lloyd, in the front of the crowd, had a clear view of her. Before he could stop himself, he strode toward the gallows, seething. He couldn't let her die. He couldn't let them kill her, not after what he had done for her, for Luin. Not after they had both fought so hard. He knew she wasn't the first to die since he'd failed to protect the town, but her execution was salt in a wound so painful he couldn't stand it. He jumped toward the gallows, not sure how exactly he would save her, but the other prisoners seemed to sense his intent. They wrapped their arms around his, pulling him back into the crowd, telling him to leave it or end up like her. He struggled against them, trying to make his way up toward the gallows, but there were too many of them holding him back. The girl at the noose looked down at him, recognized him, and gave him one last smile before the trapdoor opened up below her and she fell. Mercifully her neck broke instantly.

Lloyd went numb and fell to the ground. He stared at her twitching, dangling feet and his blood went cold. This was his fault. If only he had fought harder, been quicker, smarter, if only he hadn't gotten mixed up in this whole Chosen business, he wouldn't be here. He would be with his father, far away, untouched by the horrors of the ranch. If only...

A few Desian guards had noticed Lloyd's troublemaking and were pushing their way through the crowd of prisoners toward him. They hoisted him off the ground only to knock him back down, slamming him down with truncheons and whips. As he lay on the ground, taking the blows, the crowd dispersed. The schoolgirl's body was cut down from the noose and two guards prepared to carry it to the crematorium.

From the corner of his swollen eye, Lloyd saw Kvar lean toward one of his guards and whisper something. The guard nodded and passed the message to the others, including the ones punishing him. They stopped immediately and made way for Kvar, who stood over him, as entertained as ever.

"I'm glad to see your little checkups have no ill-effects on your pluck," he said. Lloyd struggled to his knees, only to get kicked to the ground again. "Unfortunately, displays of such blatant impudence are not tolerated here. I'm afraid you're going to have to learn some respect."

Shit, he's gonna have a field day with me now, Lloyd thought. Part of him cursed himself for getting in trouble and making Kvar's day a little better, but a bigger part of him knew that he couldn't have acted differently. Lloyd was hauled to his feet, and dragged between two guards to the edge of the yard. Kvar followed him, and several more guards came after. They shoved him to the front gate and held him there while the instruction to open it was relayed up to the men on the wall. While the gate slowly opened, Lloyd looked around. To his left he spied the charred and decaying corpse of a prisoner who had tried to scale the electric fence, and had been left there as an example to others.

Lloyd wondered what that prisoner would've thought if he had seen that they were opening the gate for him and leading him out of the ranch. Probably bitterness, maybe hope. Maybe Lloyd could hope. Maybe he would manage to kick his way to freedom and run off into the forest. The thought died quickly in him when he turned his head and saw that at least ten guards were escorting him, all armed with rifles.

For the first time in months, Lloyd saw the outside world. It looked much the same as it always did—the rivers ran their usual course, the animals lived their usual lives, the trees whispered as they always had. Nature seemed to not care who was suffering, who was slaving away, and who was dying at the hands of the Desians. Everything was as it had been, at least from the perspective of the natural, non-human world.

Lloyd was dragged through the forest surrounding the ranch and into a clearing, where he was released. He looked around. Piles of dirt surrounded him, and the smell was overpowering. He realized he was in what must be the ranch's burial ground. They're going to kill me, Lloyd thought to himself, gritting his teeth. They're going to kill me and leave me here. One of the guards threw Lloyd a shovel and commanded him to dig. He knew they were going to make him dig is own grave, then slit his throat, or shoot him, or stab him, and throw him inside. Or worse, they were going to bury him alive…

But instead they dumped the body of the schoolgirl in front of him. A strange mixture of horror and relief rushed through him. He wasn't going to die today; she had done it for him.

Even in death, she still looked defiant. Maybe she was pleased with herself for having assisted in Pedro's escape. But any information she could've given him about how to get out of the ranch went with her into oblivion.

"Better hurry up, boy," one of the guards said. "She's getting a little stiff." His comrades laughed.

Lloyd shook with ire, but still managed to start digging. Don't do anything, he told himself. Don't do anything at all that will make Kvar happy. He concentrated not on the cruelty, the girl, her death, but the dirt, the impartial dirt. It didn't care who died and who lived, who was righteous and who was evil. It took them all in and turned them into more dirt, into nothing. It sapped their mana and gave it to the forest, and it was unstoppable. He numbed, overwhelmed by the all-encompassing power of the soil. He turned it over with his shovel, hauling out piles of brown dirt until a human-sized trench began to appear.

He wondered if he managed to dig deep enough, he would find another body. Maybe that body would be his mother's. He wrung momentary comfort from the idea that he could lie down beside her and refuse to get up. Maybe they would shoot him and just leave him there, piling dirt on him, and he could finally meet her again after all these years... No. He couldn't die here, not before he killed Kvar. He gripped the shovel harder and dug in earnest.

Kvar, reclining on a stump, watched him and smiled, as always. Every few shovelfuls, Lloyd would look up at him, clench his teeth, and repeat his mantra. I will kill him… I will…

Lloyd dug well into the afternoon, sweating under the scorching sun. He had shoveled for so long that thoughts of the girl, thoughts of his mother, thoughts of his own suffering had left him. Only the mantra of revenge stayed. He shook with exhaustion, but his mind was empty except for his violent resolve. When the Desians were satisfied with the size of his hole, they told him to drop her body inside. By this time, rigor mortis had set in, and Lloyd had some trouble fitting her in the plot. He managed to fold her arms over her chest and fit her into the grave, and when he climbed out of the trench, he smelled acridly of death. He piled dirt onto the body, trying to cover her face first so he didn't have to look at it. When he was done, he patted the newly turned mound with the underside of the shovel and turned to face his captors.

Kvar seemed pleased with his work, but then again Kvar seemed pleased with almost everything. Lloyd tried his best to stare him down, repeating his mantra, hoping that somehow Kvar would hear him. The Desian overseer saw the hatred in Lloyd's stare and drank it in, looking satiated and refreshed by it. He stood up, motioned to the guards, and Lloyd was roughly escorted back to the ranch. He thought that he might as well make his escape into the forest now, before they locked him back in that damnable prison, but he knew how that would turn out. Lloyd would have a bullet in each knee and Kvar would have a fit of euphoria.

When Lloyd was dragged back in through the gates, he saw that the gallows had not yet been disassembled. Apparently the Desians thought that they might as well torture two birds with one stone, so they strung him up by his feet on the same rope that had killed the schoolgirl. A few of the guards drank beer in the afternoon sun after beating his back with rods. Some of the unluckier internees who happened to pass by were forced to throw rocks at him. Fortunately for him, the prisoners were so overworked and feeble the stones barely hurt. When the guards had evidently tired themselves out having fun with him, they left him dangling, dripping blood onto the trapdoor that now lay closed under him. He struggled to breathe, every muscle weak, his head on fire.

Right when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, Kvar decided to enjoy the sunset with him. Desian guards procured a chair for him and he sat beside Lloyd, agonizingly just out of reach, watching the western sky and reading a book of poetry. From the corner of Lloyd's swollen, watery eye, he spied something familiar, nestled between the pages of Kvar's thick book. It was a string of brown yarn that Lloyd had fashioned as a chain for the locket. Lloyd dared himself to let his eyes follow the length of the yarn, and there it was, the tiny portrait of his family, hanging on the end of what Kvar now used as a bookmark.

Lloyd groaned, reaching out to the Desian, his fingers twitching, aching for blood. Kvar didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't show it. Instead he smiled and turned the page.

"I've always been a fan of the pastoral tradition," Kvar told him as he dangled, the gallows crossbeam creaking slightly. "Perhaps that's why I chose to immerse myself in ranch life. Spectacular views like this are just not commonplace where I'm from. And there is something so satisfying about a hard day's work done right, isn't there?"

Lloyd tried desperately to not let out the sob that was bursting in him. Here Kvar was, only a few feet away, unarmed, and Lloyd could not touch him. He couldn't even try, he was so weak.

"I'm sorry we have to do this to you, really I am," the Desian overlord continued. "But I'm afraid you're just not doing as well as we expected. Evidently you're not suffering nearly enough. But not to worry, we can fix that. I am in this business for a reason, after all. And if you can't keep up, well, we'll just hang you and be done with it."

Lloyd couldn't swallow. He could barely breathe.

Kvar closed the book and looked up at him, smiling. "My dear boy, I'm going to share a secret with you. The secret to running a successful operation is merely an exercise in cost management. You must assess possible losses and weigh them against gains—the whole dreary affair is only economic. I'm sure you've learned about economics in school. They're very particular when applied to human ranches, mostly because all of you are so disappointingly fragile. Humans are an immensely perishable product. Why, just last year there was a pneumonia outbreak and I lost nearly a quarter of my crop. Cost me a fortune. Not to mention Lord Yggdrasill was most displeased." Kvar shook his head. "It's not an easy job, but I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Lloyd swayed slightly in the mild afternoon wind. He hoped against hope the wind would pick up enough so he could swing over to Kvar and wrap his hands around that disgusting pale neck. His fingers twitched at the prospect of squeezing the life out of the bastard, but his the wind never gave into his fervent prayer. Instead, it tickled his hair gently, almost mockingly, while Kvar read him a poem about two shepherds falling in love. Lloyd's eyes closed—he was thirsty as hell, and he couldn't feel his feet anymore. Unfortunately he could still hear Kvar, who never seemed to be done talking.

"I saw your father the other day."

Lloyd's eyes shot open. He tried to muster enough strength to speak, but only a groan came out.

"Yes, he looked about as healthy as you do now. About in the same situation, actually, but right-side up. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Lloyd could barely speak. His mouth felt like cotton. "What… did you… do…"

"Oh, I haven't done a thing to him. He did this all to himself. And to you. If he hadn't fooled with our Angelus project, then you wouldn't be in this situation now. But I suppose that's all in the past. We have the project back, and now, if we're lucky, you're even going to make us another one. Come to think of we should probably breed you so our supply of your mother's blood doesn't run completely dry."

Lloyd muttered something under his breath.

"I can't hear you, boy. Speak up."

"I will… kill you."

Kvar laughed outright. "Goodness, you are a hoot. It will almost be a sad day when we have to cull you." Kvar went back to reading, occasionally removing his impromptu bookmark and subconsciously toying with it, as if to make sure Lloyd knew it was there. He asked Lloyd's opinion on the form of this poem and the rhyme scheme of that one, and asked him if he thought the whole symbolism of a sacrificial lamb was terribly cliche. Lloyd, of course, didn't answer. He only groaned, clenching and unclenching his fists weakly, until after what seemed like hours, Kvar was finished reading. "It looks as if it may rain tonight," he said, closing his book and standing. "Perhaps it will be refreshing for you. Perhaps not." He flashed Lloyd a smug grin and stepped off the platform, heading back into the warm glow of the Desians' quarters.

Lloyd turned slowly in the wind, steadily losing consciousness, as storm clouds gathered in the distance.

* * *

It rained all night. Lloyd slipped in and out of sleep, drenched and freezing, and briefly considered dying out here, just to spite Kvar and rob him of his exsphere. Remarkably, every time he woke, either out of pain or fear or cold, he was still alive. When he could, he tried to catch as much rain in his mouth as possible. It was nearly impossible for him to swallow in his current state, but even having the cool water slosh around in his mouth was surprisingly comforting.

Just before dawn it stopped raining. The early morning wind, though light, chilled him to the bone. His head felt like it was going to pop, and his feet felt like they had already shriveled and fallen off. He watched the forest beyond the barbed wire, thinking of what he would do when he got down. The next time he saw Kvar, he would kill him. He didn't care if he was pumped full of arrows, if the guards managed to cut him open before he even got there—he would make it to Kvar, and he would rip him apart. But not before he forced the bastard to tell him what he'd done to his mother, his father, to him.

Why us? Lloyd found himself thinking. What was our crime? Maybe Lloyd had been born into an obscenely unlucky family. Maybe his ancestors had done something vile and now he was paying the price. Maybe the world was just unspeakably cruel and he, like everyone else, was at its mercy.

He watched the trees as the sun slowly rose. Shadows danced, leaves rustled, the sunlight peered through branches. The forest was safe from the savagery of morality, the threat of evil. All nature did was survive. He wondered if he might be lucky enough to be reincarnated as a tree when the time came.

Suddenly, he thought he saw a flash of something white. Hair, maybe, perhaps a coat. And then he saw Genis at the barbed wire, staring through at him. He blinked. The boy was still there, so he blinked again. Lloyd thought dehydration must've gotten the better of his brain. But Genis stayed, clutching the wire. He looked like he was shouting something to Lloyd.

Then the alarm rang across the entire ranch, calling the prisoners to work. Genis jumped and disappeared at the sound of the shriek. Lloyd almost called after him, but couldn't find his voice. He dangled alone, staring after his friend, until a few yawing guards climbed up the steps to him.

"So we just cut him down?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think he'll manage to break his neck from there?"

"Nah."

"Righty." One of them sliced through the ropes holding his feet and he fell to the platform, pain shooting through his back and into every limb. He tried to get up, but his muscles failed him. The Desians dragged him upright and off the gallows. They threw him on the yellow grass just as the other internees were filing into the yard, and his work for that day began.


	10. Rage

_AN: For those ladies and gentlemen of less-than-invincible constitutions, be warned that compared to previous chapters this one is quite violent. It's gross. There's blood, like, everywhere. It may bother you, so read at your own risk._

He was cold, curled in the dark, head tucked between his elbows. His body shook, but he couldn't tell if it was a shiver from the chill or a convulsion of pain. His head hurt, he was blind, paralyzed—he couldn't tell whether he was asleep or awake.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the darkness, but he didn't know why.

Something soft touched his shoulder, and comforting warmth spread through him. He stopped trembling, but was too weak to lift his head. He knew that warmth, though, he knew whose hand squeezed his shoulder, he knew which dream this was.

"Dad," he muttered weakly.

"I'm here."

The voice was far away, tucked into the forgotten reaches of his mind. But it was still there, and it still drew him toward comfort. "Why?" He couldn't tell if he spoke aloud, or only in his dazed head. "What did he do to you? To mum? To me?"

The voice didn't reply. But Lloyd could feel it, hovering somewhere in the back of his head, waiting to answer. He would find an answer.

"Am I dead? Will you let me die?"

"No."

That was just like his dad. Always curt, always strict. Always no. No. No.

"Don't die, Lloyd."

No. No.

I won't. Not before I kill him. Not before I kill… I will kill…

No.

* * *

When the screeching alarm ripped Lloyd from his uneasy sleep, he was still mumbling nonsense to himself. He sat up slowly, waves of pain coursing through him. He groaned, wiped sweat from his face, and glimpsed the back of his hand. He fell back onto his bed, staring at it.

The exsphere under his skin had broken the surface sometime during the night, and now sat on his hand like a crystalline red wart. He scratched at it, picking at the edges, trying to peel it from his skin, but the horrid pain made him give up that pursuit. It was too firmly embedded, and he didn't have long to try to get it off before the guards opened his door and dragged him out to the yard to begin that day's work. No, that exsphere wasn't going anywhere, at least not yet.

In the days following his gallows ordeal, Lloyd did not see Kvar. Which was lucky for Kvar, he thought. If he ever saw that bastard again he would lose it. For now, though, he simply nursed his hatred, twisting his brain in knots trying to come up with adequate punishment for the Desian's misdeeds. The next time Lloyd saw him, that bastard was dead. He didn't care what the guards would do to him, before, after, or during—he would slice that son of a bitch right up.

Partially spurred on by the hateful energy inside him, Lloyd seemed to be healing pretty well. Over the next few days, his bruises and welts ran their course, and the pain eventually subsided. Except in his hand—the pain there was consistent and excruciating. Occasionally he would glance down at his exsphere, at the ugly red stone growing on his inflamed skin. He wondered if it was even possible to separate oneself from an exsphere once it started growing. As far as he knew, once the thing was taken off, the host either died instantly or went insane. He had never witnessed the second eventuality, but he'd heard fantastical stories from other prisoners of green-skinned monsters, scaly and blind, that had once been human but whom the exsphere had driven mad. Of course, he didn't believe them. Those at the ranch would make up any old horror story to make themselves feel better about their situation.

One sunny morning Lloyd found himself in the basement of the medical wing for his routine checkup. Mercifully, Kvar failed to attend, but the physician seemed pleased with his progress. "It finally broke the skin," he observed thoughtfully. "Yes, most promising." Lloyd was only thankful that he didn't have to have his hand slit open so they could see what was going on inside. But ever since the little rock had emerged, the pain in his hand became markedly more intense.

Lloyd clenched his teeth as the physician prodded his exsphere, muttering to himself. He didn't see the two medical aides slowly approach the doctor while he was distracted. He didn't see them look conspiratorially at one another and nod. He didn't see one of them raise a staff, dull and heavy. All he saw was that suddenly, and with a bone-chilling thump, the doctor fell forward on to his lap, head bleeding.

One of the medical assistants removed her mask, and Lloyd's jaw dropped.

"Sheena!" he roared with delight.

"Happy to see me?" she smiled, tugging at his restraints.

The second aide removed hers, and Lloyd saw it was Genis' big sister. "We're going to get you out of here," she said matter-of-factly.

"Where's Genis? The Chosen?"

Sheena smiled. "They're busy freeing everyone."

"What? Really? How in Martel's name did you pull that off? And how did you get in here?"

Sheena pulled his hands free and helped him out of the examining chair. "Some guy named Pedro escaped here a while back. He helped us."

"He did? How is he?"

"He's dead," Raine said.

So that was that. Pedro had paid the price all of them paid at one point or another.

Raine handed him a sword of Desian make, obviously stolen. He took it and swung it, relieved to have even a simple weapon. He wondered if this cheap thing would be enough to slice his way out of there.

He, Raine and Sheena exited the medical wing into the yard, where hundreds of prisoners jostled in chaos, making for the open gate. Raine and Sheena crept around the perimeter of the yard, Lloyd trailing behind. The other guards were too preoccupied with the escaping prisoners to notice that two uniformed medical assistants were sneaking away with one of their crop.

"Wait," he told them, halfway to the exit. "I need to get something. You go find Genis and the Chosen and help them get out." Before either of them could protest, Lloyd dashed toward the Desian's quarters. Since all the guards and their superior officers were out in the yard trying to quell what was both an escape and a riot, it was easy for him to make his way to the highest floor, where he knew Kvar had his office. Lloyd had to try a few doors before he found the right one.

The Desian lord stood at the far window, overlooking the yard. Although Lloyd crept in as quietly as he could, the swishing sound of the automatic door let Kvar know that someone had entered.

"I would appreciate a report," he said, not taking his eyes away from the chaos in the yard.

A blue glint brought Lloyd's gaze to the desk between him and Kvar. There lay his sword, sheathed, and next to it sat his exsphere, still attached to its key crest. On the corner of the desk lay the book of poetry and the bookmark inside. He stepped silently across the carpet, and picked up the sword as discreetly as he could, leaving the Desian one in its place.

"A report!" Kvar barked abruptly, still keeping his eyes on the yard. Lloyd slipped the locket out of the book and wrapped the yarn around his wrist. He grabbed his exsphere and tried to put it on over the one he was growing, and failed. Instead he stuck it onto his right hand, just as Kvar turned around, evidently irked at his subordinate's disrespectful silence.

Something that might've been relief passed over Kvar's face when he saw Lloyd. "Oh, dear me. I thought you'd escaped with the rest of the rabble. But you seem to enjoy my company too much to pass it up for freedom."

Lloyd raised his sword. "Where's my dad?"

Kvar raised his eyebrow in response. He smirked slightly, stepping toward Lloyd. The tip of the sword touched his chin, and he smiled as if daring Lloyd to just lean in and drive it through his throat. "He's serving Lord Yggdrasill, like the rest of us."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lloyd said, but in his mind he saw that face, that cruel, cold-eyed face of the man that had orchestrated the capture of his father. That was Yggdrasill, he knew it.

Kvar only chuckled quietly_,_ circling Lloyd.

"What about my mother?"

"Your mother? What about her? She was a valuable asset. She gave us the best exsphere we've ever seen. A subject truly worthy of the Angelus—"

"No!" Lloyd shouted. "What did you do to her?"

"Dear boy, I didn't do anything to her. You think I'd waste such a spectacular specimen? In fact, despite the efforts of my less sophisticated colleagues, it was probably my doing that she survived as long as she did. No, it was your father that killed her."

Lloyd screamed, thrust his sword forward, aiming for Kvar's face. The Desian swiftly stepped aside, coolly amused, as usual.

"He never told you? My, that's awkward." Kvar dodged another one of Lloyd's blows. "You think he'd have the decency to tell his own son he's a murderer."

"You shut up!" Lloyd screamed, the black anger inside him boiling to the surface. "_You shut the hell up_!" His exsphere burned—they both did. Strength flowed through his arms and he swung again, only to slice air.

Kvar laughed. "This is precious." He sidestepped Lloyd's thrust and spun, kicking him in the back. Lloyd fell forward onto his knees, coughing. He turned just in time to receive a good kick to the face. He flew back into the desk, sputtering, wiping his bleeding lip. "In fact," Kvar continued, a little too satisfied, "if I recall correctly, it was that sword he used to run her through." Lloyd stabbed at his face and missed. "Or did he slit her throat? It was quite a while ago—I can't remember every little detail." Lloyd pushed off the desk and toward Kvar, screaming. The Desian spun out of the way, and Lloyd's sword followed him, barely nicking him in the cheek.

Kvar seemed pleased, as he always did. "Nothing but insolence," he muttered. "But show me what you can do with two of those things on your side." Kvar evidently did not want to play around. He dashed toward Lloyd, arms outspread, lightning webbing his fingers. Lloyd barely had time to raise his sword before Kvar clapped either side of his blade, sending a jolt through the metal and into his arms.

Lloyd smelled his flesh burn, felt his muscles turn to rock. He clenched his jaw so tight he swore his teeth were breaking, and there was no air in his lungs for him to scream. He fell to the floor, blind with pain. He could barely hear Kvar's laugh, and his mind rushed through the last time this happened. What if Lloyd failed, what if Kvar took his exsphere again, put him back in the cell, harvested the stone growing under his skin… No. No, that couldn't happen. He grit his teeth and told himself to get back up, to cut him open, to rip him apart. Kvar bent to pick up the Desian-made sword off his desk and lowered it, tip pointed toward Lloyd's throat. Lloyd couldn't get up, couldn't lift his arms to save himself, he was going to die here—

And then there was smoke, thick and cold. He heard shuffling behind him, a frustrated grunt from Kvar, and then in a wave of blonde hair and snow-white fabric, the Chosen stood above him, wings like petals shining from her back. She placed herself between him and Kvar, and when the smoke cleared, the Desian lowered his weapon. "Chosen One," he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Lloyd took Kvar's brief distraction as an opportunity to struggle to his feet, sword in hand. Kill him, kill him, kill him…

"You're not supposed to be here," the Desian continued, narrowing his eyes.

Lloyd didn't know what he meant and didn't care. His head was empty except for his mantra, and now was his only opportunity. He pushed the Chosen aside, vision tunneled, blind to everything but Kvar, now with his guard down. Agonizing blue fire spread from Lloyd's hands to his heart, setting all of his veins aflame. He sprang forward, his sword outthrust—and in a silent, clear and unbelievable millisecond, the very tip of the blade entered Kvar's chest. Lloyd couldn't hear his own scream as he drove it through the Desian's heart and out his back. He was on fire, the intensity flowing through him was unbearable—his heart and lungs felt like they were splitting open. It wasn't until Lloyd had pulled his sword from Kvar's heart in a splatter of blood that he realized what he had done.

The Desian fell to his knees, silent, and Lloyd could swear he was still smiling. The fire inside him seared his insides black with hatred, and he raised his sword again. Before Kvar had time to hit the ground, Lloyd hammered it down between his eyes, splitting his head. He drew the sword up again, hacked at Kvar's shoulder, his chest, his arms, his face, screaming, blood spraying. He brought the sword down again and again, vision red, cutting and chopping until there was barely any flesh left to mutilate. He was blind, he was on fire, he had to do this, he had to wipe the goddamn smile off his face, had to make sure the bastard paid for everything…

Then the Chosen was there, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him backward. The dark rage inside him switched off like a light, and the fire left him, leaving only weakness. His legs gave out and his head swirled.

"Burn in hell," he croaked before stumbling backwards, legs shaking, into the Chosen. She and lowered him to the floor, where he panted and trembled, partly in disbelief, but mostly with overwhelming feeling of liberation. He had done it. Finally, he had done it. His mantra settled, silent, in the far reaches of his mind, and his breathing slowed.

"Are you okay?" the Chosen asked, cradling him.

"Holy shit, Lloyd! What the hell did you go and do that stupid thing for!" Sheena was by his side too, kneeling. She glanced over at the body of Kvar, now barely recognizable as anything but a bloody mess of diced meat. "Holy… Are you crazy, kid? That is some… messed up…"

Lloyd was too exhausted to justify his slaughter. He only wheezed as Genis knelt by him, grabbing hold of his shoulder. "Dammit, I thought you were a goner."

"Me… too," he managed to say as all three of them helped him up. Genis' sister stood behind Kvar's desk, fiddling with his machinery.

"I've rigged this place to self-destruct," she said passively.

"What?" Genis squeaked. "Really?"

"If we leave the facility as is there is a chance that operations will continue despite all our work here. I trust you have no objections."

"Well, no but..."

"Sheena. Can you get us out of here? We can't make it down past the guards in time."

"Uh, yeah," Sheena said, obviously nervous. "Everyone get close, it'll be a little weird." All of them crouched by her. "Last one, grandpa," she muttered, and white smoke enveloped them. Lloyd felt cold, empty, and light, but his pain subsided and the agonizing fire in his hands went out. He was almost enjoying this nothingness when he suddenly rematerialized. Stepping out of the white smoke felt like suddenly being submerged in something dense and inescapable, but the feeling soon passed, and he found himself in what was once Luin.

His legs immediately gave out. After the events of the day, he could hardly blame them. He sat on the grass, unable to move, as the others knelt beside him attentively. The Chosen took his hand in hers, and he felt a strange warmness enter his palm.

"Chosen," he said hoarsely.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Colette."

"It's nice… to meet you," he managed to say before his eyes closed and he was lost to the world.


	11. Rest

Voices. There were always voices. It seemed that everywhere he went, every time he closed his eyes, there they were. Voices he could not silence, building a conversation that perpetually excluded him.

"…Insane? Did you see... what he did… man?"

"Like you wouldn't have… situation..."

"G… nis…"

"Don't trust…"

"…"

"…"

…

No

Don't die, Lloyd.

Wake up.

Up…

When Lloyd's eyes shot open, he saw the vague, shining shape of Virginia's calm face. He blinked, hoping that perhaps everything had been a nightmare and he was still in that lumpy straw bed in Exire, enjoying her tender care and enduring her cooking. But the constant pain in his left hand convinced him otherwise. He sat up slowly, his vision clearing, and saw that it was not Virginia who was hovering over him.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"About sixteen hours," Raine said. She sat beside him with a cool cloth, which she lay on his head. "Lie back down and don't try anything funny. I healed as much as I could, but there will be a few scars. A lot of scars. You still need rest."

They were in Luin; he could tell by the destruction around him. They had taken refuge in one of the only buildings still standing, but instead of a front wall it had only a few shaky beams and a couple piles of bricks.

"Is this… the mayor's place?" he asked.

"What's left of it," Sheena said, kneeling down beside Raine.

"Some of my stuff must still be here."

"We can go look for it later. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he answered. It was true, he did feel a lot better. He almost felt normal. That insane, black rage inside him seemed to have disappeared, but the throbbing in his hand had not.

"Well, you look like shit," Genis put in, before receiving a slap to the back of his head for his vulgarity. "Ow, sis!"

"You missed quite an adventure," Sheena told him.

"So did you," he replied mirthlessly. He looked around. "Where's the Chose—where's Colette?"

"She's out gathering firewood," Sheena said. "We figured we'd spend a few days here until you recover, then move on to the next seal."

"I'm fine, really. We can leave anytime. How did you find me, anyway? Why did you come for me?"

"Jeez, Lloyd," Genis said. "Give yourself some credit. You're my friend, even if you got mixed up in all this assassination business."

"Well, first these guys found me in Luin," Sheena said. "I decided to put of my assassination for the time being—and I told them, well, pretty much everything. About our assignment. About Tethe'alla and the mana supply. We spent a while looking for a way into the ranch and had no success; that's when we heard about Pedro. So then we spent an even longer while looking for him. Eventually we got him to talk. He told us how he escaped, and then we came for you. I made a pact with the summon spirit Undine along the way."

"Good job," Lloyd said, smiling. He wondered if Corinne would be jealous now that Sheena had a real elemental summon spirit on her hands. Did spirits get jealous? Corinne probably did—that fox could hold a grudge like no other.

"Who was that man?" Raine asked out of the blue.

"What man?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

"The one you killed. The one you… hacked up."

Lloyd's heart pulled itself apart trying to sink and rise at the same time. He had had his revenge. He had cut down that bastard. But he had not stopped. Good gods, he really did that. Had he lost his mind? What was he thinking, and why could he hardly remember it? It was like he had been struck with some sort of sickening blindness, some darkness that had eaten him at that moment and had only spat him back out long after Kvar was already dead.

Fear bubbled up from the pit of his stomach when he thought of his own brutality. It was precisely that kind of violence that had always scared him, so why did it seem to come to him so easily? What if he was slowly but surely turning into the kind of man that would cut down another man without a second thought? What if he was turning into...

His father. There was also the problem with his father—the accusation that he had been the one who had killed his mother. What could Kvar gain by telling Lloyd a lie like that? Besides entertainment. Yes, Kvar just wanted to toy with his head a little; that was how he worked, that was his motive.

"Lloyd! I asked you a question." Raine's stern command brought him back to the present. He looked at her, brow furrowed, and decided that he might as well be honest.

"Kvar. He ran the ranch. He tortured me, he made me... He killed my… well, he didn't kill my parents… he made… damn." Lloyd didn't know how to continue. The others patiently waited for his answer, intrigued. "He made my father… he knows where my father is. He's working for the man that kidnapped him. Yggdrasill."

"Why would Desians want your father?" Raine asked.

Lloyd shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he knew something he shouldn't have. He did know about the two worlds, and the Tower of Salvation. He even knew when it was going to appear. That's where he got taken."

"Wait," Raine said. "He was attacked at the Tower?"

"Yeah," Lloyd answered. "So was I. But I got out. To Tethe'alla."

Raine rubbed her chin for a few moments. "So the Desians are a much bigger organization than we could've imagined."

"Raine?" Genis looked at her thoughtfully.

"Think about it. If Kvar, who was high enough up on the Desian chain of command to run his own ranch, was involved in the capture of Lloyd's father, and the whole ordeal went down at the Tower of Salvation, that means that at least some Desians have access to the Tower. Which means that it's possible they have access to the Church of Martel, and by extension, the Chosen."

"What?" Genis said. "You think Colette's a Desian?"

"Of course not," Raine spat back. "Don't be like that, Genis. I'm only saying that, from what little we know, it might be safe to say they have some degree of control over the Regeneration..." She trailed off.

"Raine, what are you thinking?" Genis asked her.

She ignored his question. "I suspect that for now, there isn't much we can do except complete the Regeneration. We must be especially wary of Desians in the future."

Sheena nodded, Genis agreed, and Lloyd felt his heart sink. His father probably knew everything about this. His father knew, and they had punished him for it. Lloyd wished that he at least had the slightest clue about what was going on, since he was already caught up in this whole mess. Maybe he and his father were on the Desians' radar for different reasons. His father for knowing too much, and him for… well… he instinctively scratched at the exsphere growing from his hand and winced at the pain.

"Lloyd," Raine said seriously, her gaze following his hand. "You need to tell me about that."

He sighed. "Well, this is how exspheres are made. They put something in my hand… I think I was drugged at the time. I don't remember much. A few days later, this started to grow. Every once in a while they'd take me to the medical wing and examine it. It didn't actually break the skin until recently. Most of the time it was inside… I don't know how it grows, all I know is that they make you work so it can grow faster. Then they take it off, and… well, you die."

Sheena glanced at her exsphere. "Is that true? Every one of these… _that's_ how they're made?"

Lloyd nodded. He touched the blue one on his right hand. "This one… I'm pretty sure this one was my mother's." Lloyd wondered if he could ever justify using one. He should probably take it off and throw it away.

Sheena sat still for a moment, examining hers. "You have no idea how many of these are hanging around in Tethe'alla. They power… _everything_."

"Yeah. I do," Lloyd said. "Too many." He pinched his right exsphere and took it off. "I don't think… Now that I've been through what they have, I don't think I can use one."

"Good," Raine said. "If you donate it to the Regeneration, we could use it. We'll find a place to drop you off before we continue our journey."

"Seriously, Raine," Genis mumbled. "You don't have to be so cold."

"To be completely blunt, Lloyd," Raine continued, ignoring her brother. "I don't trust you. Not after what I saw you do at the ranch. I think we would all be safer if you parted with your exsphere."

Lloyd looked down at the little blue rock. Besides the rusty locket, this was the only thing he had left of his mother. But then again, without this damnable thing, she might still be alive. For a moment, he hesitated.

"Jeez, Raine, give him a break!" Genis said. "You don't know what he went through."

"I… I'll think about it," Lloyd said. He was still trying to make sense of all this. He crawled out from under his ratty blanket and struggled to his feet.

"Lie back down," Sheena told him. "You need rest."

"I need to go find my things, if they're still around. And then we can go. I don't want to hang around here too long."

"I don't blame you," he heard Sheena mutter as he made his slow but steady way down the crumbling remains of the hall and found what was left of the room he had slept in. He rummaged through the debris, moving aside broken furniture, old stones, and collapsed roofbeams. Eventually he found some of his clothes unburnt, and his father's leather-bound book unharmed. He also managed to pull out Virginia's diary, whose cover was nearly burnt off but whose pages seemed intact. He recovered his bag and put his surviving items inside. He thought about when he would tell Genis and Raine that he had their mother's diary. He wondered if they already knew about Virginia, or if they even knew that they were half-elves. Maybe they thought they were full-blooded. He didn't want to break that bad news to them, at least not at this juncture. Raine didn't seem to trust him anyway, and she didn't seem too eager to let him stay with them—what if he could use her bloodline as leverage…

No. He wouldn't do that. Not after everything she had done for him, despite her mistrust. He decided he would hide the diary for now, and packed it away among his other belongings before returning to the front room, where the others sat in a wordless circle.

"I'm going to wash before we go," Lloyd said, shattering the fragile silence.

"There's no running water left here anymore," Sheena said, "but there's still a lake. It's freezing, but it'll have to do. Take some soap."

"Thanks." Lloyd threw his pack over his back and walked past the rubble, collapsed buildings, through streets littered with valuables that citizens discarded in the frenzied panic to save their own skins. Jewelry, toys, photographs, even small pieces of furniture here and there. He made his way down to the water, lay his bag on a patch of grass and removed a change of clothes. After a moment of thought, he placed his right exsphere carefully on top of his extra clothes. He peeled off his bloodstained rags and stepped in. The freezing water sent pangs of energy through him, painful but still somehow refreshing. He forced himself to wade deeper, clenching his teeth, heart pounding.

Once he was deep enough, he began to wash away the stink of the human ranch—the stink of sweat, blood, human waste. He could still smell Kvar on him, everywhere the Desian's blood had stained him. His chest, his arms, especially his hands. He rubbed the soap between his palms, trying to wash away not only the blood, but the memory of his horrifying rage. Where had that brutality been hiding inside him? What was wrong with him? He looked down at his hand, at the disgusting red rock, and wondered if the strange hatred was housed somewhere in its glinting depths.

He scoured his left hand, trying to see if the cold water could wash the exsphere away. It didn't, and it never would. Lloyd knew that, but he found himself rubbing his hand raw anyway.

He stopped scrubbing and caught a glimpse of himself in the still water. He had to stare—he barely recognized himself. He looked scruffy and lean, with rings under his eyes and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. His ribs cast shadows, and his arms and shoulders looked thin and hard like the limbs of a tree. He couldn't count the scars on his arms and chest. He didn't want to know what his back looked like after all those beatings. Martel, they really did a number on me, he thought, but then he smiled weakly at his reflection. He had survived, and he had killed Kvar. Even if he had lost himself in his own savagery, he had done it.

Now, there was the problem with his father… He wondered if Kvar had lied about the whole thing, just to rile him up, to torture him a little. Something in him believed the Desian lord, mostly because his dad always refused to talk about his mother. Whenever he brought her up, he always got smacked around, so he learned never to broach the subject with him. But still, there was a tiny part of him that knew, that almost remembered...

He forced the thought away. He would doubt. He would doubt everything Kvar said before the end. The bastard was a liar and a murderer. Of course he would try to turn Lloyd against his father. And yet—

"Oh! I'm sorry!" he heard a voice behind him, and turned. Colette had stumbled upon him—maybe accidentally, maybe on purpose. He was already mostly submerged in the water, so she couldn't have seen much anyway. "I'll go, sorry!" She turned to leave.

"Wait," Lloyd found himself saying. "Stay here, I don't mind." Lloyd had been stripped and scrutinized so many times in the ranch, he didn't mind the Chosen catching a glimpse of him, even if his body was ragged, bruised and starving. He just didn't want to be left alone with his own dark thoughts.

"Are you sure? Okay, I'll just turn around." The Chosen sat with her back to the lake, playing with the grass at her feet.

Lloyd continued scrubbing, splashed water over his face and ran soap through his filthy hair. He could see the dirt and caked blood slide off him, staining the water around him a reddish brown.

"I hope you're feeling all right," he heard Colette say.

"As good as I've been in a while," He answered, stepping from the water a new man, a new scrawny, beat-up but clean man.

"I was worried, you know… Is it true? How they make exspheres? Raine told me."

"Yeah." He pulled on his pants and unfolded his shirt. "I'm decent. You can turn around now."

She did, and smiled when she saw him. "You look a lot better, Lloyd."

Lloyd pulled on his shirt and looked her over, her kind face, gold hair, the strange jewel embedded in a choker around her neck. "Is that an exsphere?" he asked, pointing to it.

"This? Oh, no. It's my Cruxis Crystal. It's similar, but Chosens get them."

"What does it do?"

"About the same thing as an exsphere. But when I pray at a seal, it helps with the transformation."

"Transformation?" Lloyd had seen wings rise from her back when he was fighting Kvar, but he didn't know it was a dream or not. At that moment he had been so consumed with fear he had a hard time remembering anything.

"Into a... true Chosen."

He picked up his own exsphere, looking it over. It looked like nothing but a dead gem in his hand, glowing dully. He couldn't believe that this was all that was left of his mother. He wondered if she had to go through the same things he had. He gripped the stone and bit his lip.

"Hey! Lloyd!"

He glanced toward town and saw Genis, Sheena and Raine making their way to the water, weighed down by their packs. He and Colette walked away from the cool water to greet them.

"Well, you clean, Lloyd?" Sheena asked. "You sure you're ready to go? We can stay here another few nights if you want."

"No. I want to get out of here."

"All righty. Just let us know when you need a rest," Genis said. "Glad you're all right." He tapped Lloyd's elbow before following Sheena down the street. Collete smiled at him before making her way after them, leaving him alone with Raine.

As they started down the road, she leaned over and asked him, "So. What's your decision? Are you going to throw that exsphere out?"

"I thought about it," he answered. "I thought about throwing it into the lake."

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't." He seemed unable to offer an explanation beyond that.

"Genis says we should keep you with us," she said. "He's very worried about you. After all, you're the only friend he's ever mentioned to me." She sighed. "He seems to think you're not inherently violent, even after what he saw you do. He says you're just troubled, that months of torture drove you to it."

Lloyd gulped. Perhaps Genis was right, but even he wasn't too sure.

"Genis thinks that you'd be able to help us with the Regeneration. But I don't think that's true. I think that the only thing you can do for our cause is lend us that stone and be on your way." His hand instinctively covered the exsphere in question, as if he expected Raine to try to take it. She frowned at his reaction. "Ah. Is it because your mother died to make it?"

"I don't know."

"Look, Lloyd," Raine said. "I'll be honest with you. I think you're dangerous. Even more so with the power that exsphere gives you. Genis, Sheena, and even Colette seem to trust you, and so for the time being, and against my better judgment... I will too. But if you ever make me suspect you'll hurt the Chosen, I won't hesitate to do what is necessary. Even if Genis is against it. Even if he tries to stop me. Do you believe me?"

He looked her in the eyes, her cold, serious face, and couldn't help thinking about how much she looked like her mother. "Yes. I believe you," he said.

Raine narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't betray us."

Lloyd took her brief pause as an opportunity to defend himself. "You really think that after all this, I don't want to see the Desians driven away? You think that I would try to stop the Regeneration? I think that if anyone has any reason to make sure the Chosen succeeds, it's me. I don't want this kind of thing to happen to anyone else."

Raine sighed. "If you're serious about helping us, don't throw that rock away. If you really want to end the Desians and stop exsphere manufacture, you're going to have to use an exsphere to do it. Throwing it away is wasting the life of whoever died to make it. In your case, your mother."

Lloyd had to concede. He wouldn't have made it half this far without the thing. But he would pay the price for using it. Soon, perhaps sooner than he knew, the exsphere he was making would destroy him. If he couldn't somehow separate himself from it, it would slowly kill him like the other had slowly killed his mother. But for now, he would stay alive, for his mother's sake. The little stone she left behind would watch over him, until his job was done. Whatever that job was.

He had survived the ranch. He could survive whatever came after.


	12. Colette

The last seal, which the Chosen's party had deduced was at the Tower of Mana, was still a long ways away. As they set out from Luin, Lloyd wondered if his tired legs could possibly keep up with his more well fed companions. He knew he couldn't help much with their Regeneration project, not in the state he was in. He could only hope that in time, he would recover his strength. He didn't want to be a burden, but more so he didn't want to be left alone. He would have to make sure that he did all he could to keep up, to never let himself fall behind, lest the others leave him…

"And then there's the problem with your… second exsphere," he heard Raine say. He shook himself back into the moment. "With the help of the Boltzmann book, we may be able to find a way to safely remove it. If we can use that key crest you already have, we might be able to get it off without killing you. It's only a possibility, though."

"Man, you don't mince words, do you?" Sheena muttered.

Lloyd stared at the ground. The hand with the steadily growing exsphere twitched, burning slightly. Then he felt cold fingers wrap around his, and the burning stopped almost instantly. He turned to see the Chosen, smiling kindly, holding his hand. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Raine's the best healer around."

Just like her mother, Lloyd found himself thinking. Gods, when could he tell them? What if the Chosen knew she was traveling with half-elves? What about Sheena? Coming from Tethe'alla, she must have some lingering sentiments about the racial hierarchy.

Colette seemed to sense his apprehension and squeezed his hand. It was an oddly comforting sensation; it seemed to soothe his skin and send the dark fire back into his exsphere where it belonged. He smiled and squeezed hers back. He still found it baffling how she could forgive him so easily, despite everything he'd done. The assassination attempt, the failure to protect Luin, his savage and mindless act of vengeance against Kvar. Either she was entirely forgetful or impossibly forgiving, maybe a little bit of both.

A few miles outside of Luin, Sheena suddenly stopped in her tracks, shushing them. "There's something there. Just in those trees. Be careful." They all raised their respective weapons, waiting for a crazed bear or troupe of Desians, but what emerged from the shadows was something entirely unexpected.

"Monster!" Genis yelled, and Raine instinctively shoved Colette behind her. Sheena raised her cards, chanting a spell, but Lloyd ran toward the monster, arms open, dropping his sword.

"Noishe!" He tackled the animal, wrapping his arms around it. It whined with excitement and licked his face. "Good boy! Good dog!" Noishe looked about as healthy as Lloyd did—scruffy, malnourished, and probably flea-infested. They had both been through some tough times, he guessed.

"What are you doing, Lloyd?" Genis yelled, and Colette emerged from behind Raine to see what was going on.

"Guys! This is my dog, Noishe. He's a good boy." Noishe sat beside him, wagging his tail, trying to make a good impression.

"Lloyd," Raine started, with a look of utter bewilderment on her face.

"That's… not a dog," Genis finished.

Lloyd examined Noishe's green fur, his gargantuan ears, his sweet face. "Of course he's a dog."

"Well, he's a cute… thing," Sheena said, crossing her arms. "But I'm not so sure he's a dog."

Colette walked toward him and Noishe. "Hello, puppy," she said, extending her hand. Her foot caught on a root and she fell forward, landing on Noishe with a thud. Noishe seemed pleased that this human was so excited to see him, and he heartily licked her face.

"See?" Lloyd said.

"Colette, be careful," Raine said. "Whatever it is, it may bite—"

"He's a dog! What is _wrong_ with you people?" Lloyd cried.

"Of course he's a dog!" Colette said, wrapping her arms around Noishe's giant neck. "If Lloyd says he's a dog, he's a dog." Noishe whined and licked her cheek. "Cute puppy, good puppy!" Colette laughed, scratching his ears, right where he liked it.

Lloyd couldn't help smiling as he helped Colette up of the ground and pulled an affectionate Noishe off her. They turned to the rest of the group, waiting for approval of their new friend. Genis glanced at Raine, who glanced at Sheena. Sheena shrugged, Raine shook her head, and Genis smiled, running to greet their four-legged companion.

Noishe slept close to the fire that night, obviously relieved to have some human company. He rolled on his back, yawning, ears twitching happily. He lay beside Colette and Sheena, who stirred the pot on the fire, conversing quietly. Lloyd couldn't help smiling at her soft features, her kind eyes, and her perplexing ability to befriend the woman hired to kill her. Lloyd watched them for a while, cleaning his sword, and for the first time in months he thought that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right.

"Lloyd," Raine said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"May I see your sword?"

Lloyd instinctively gripped its hilt a little tighter. "You think I'm gonna try something?"

Raine sighed. "I told you that for now I would trust you. Don't give me a reason not to. Let me see that."

Lloyd reluctantly handed it over, and Raine took it from him like she was afraid it might break. She looked it over, angling its blade to the firelight, and a smile crept onto her face. It grew and grew, her eyes shone, her face reddened. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"This is _marvelous_. Where in the world did you get this?"

"Oh boy," Lloyd heard Genis mutter from behind him. "Here she goes."

"Lloyd, do you have any idea how old this sword is? Look at the steel, look at the fulvous hue, the curve of the blade, the gold in the pommel. And… and listen to this." She raised the sword to her ear—for a moment Lloyd thought he would have to stop her from cutting herself—and she flicked the blade. Lloyd heard nothing, but Raine sighed with delight as the vibrations of the steel entered her ear. "Ah, that ring. Polycarbonate-infused, forged in sacred flame, no doubt." She lowered the sword and looked accusingly at Lloyd. "Did you steal this? From a museum? From someone's private collection, perhaps?"

Lloyd raised his hands defensively. "No, ma'am. I found it, hidden away. It was my father's."

"Your… hmm. Perhaps a relic passed down over the ages. This is at least as old as the Ancient War." She lay it across her lap and ran her fingers along the flat of the blade. "Still sharp, still strong. Amazing." She squinted at the enigmatic writing embossed near the hilt. "Fl…amb. Flamberge."

"You can read that?" Lloyd asked excitedly.

"Of course. It's just an older form of Elvish. But gods, this script is so old, it's worn down to almost nothing. You haven't been taking care of this sword, have you?" Raine lay it down beside the fire, carefully, tenderly.

"Wait a minute—" Lloyd said.

"Lloyd, I can't allow you to continue using this priceless artifact as a weapon. You'll break it, swinging it around like a common stick. No, we need to find a safe place for this."

"Honestly, Raine," Genis muttered. "You need to get a grip."

She slapped Genis' arm. "This is an invaluable piece of history we have here. It's wasteful to actually use it."

"Jeez, sis, it's his sword, not yours. You can't just take other people's stuff. Even if it is valuable. Especially if it's valuable. There's a name for that. I think it's robbery."

"You stay out of this, Genis. You have no idea of the cultural and historical relevance of this item. As far as I'm concerned, this relic belongs to everyone. Just look at it! Imagine the battles this blade has seen, imagine tracing its history back to the Great War, imagine what we could learn about polycarbonate weaponry by studying this marvelous artifact. Technology like that has been lost for ages. You see, at the advent of the War, scholars were looking for a way to defend against magic—back then, mana was abundant and used as a power supply—so a professor of one of the larger universities (whose name has been lost) funded a research project to explore the defensive properties of…"

* * *

"Is she always like that?" Lloyd asked Genis the next morning, after he had fallen asleep halfway through Raine's four-hour lecture.

"Ugh," Genis groaned. "Only once you get her started. Mostly about historical things. She's a little too succinct when it comes to other stuff. Like things I actually need help with."

Lloyd helped Genis stuff his bedroll into his oversized pack. "Hey. Thanks for convincing her to give it back to me. How did you do that, anyway?"

"Oh. No problem. She has a weird affection for ancient artifacts. After you passed out, I told her that a sword that had lasted for four thousand years could last a few more. It was 'insulting the integrity of the craftsmanship' to refuse to use the thing. I started some weepy monologue about how we have to respect objects' intended purposes and all that teleological drivel."

Lloyd grinned. "I have no idea what you just said. But thanks anyway."

"Don't worry about it, Lloyd."

They finished packing, kicked dirt on their fire pit, and were on their way. After a while of silent strolling, Genis asked him, "So do you even know what happened to your dad?"

Lloyd sighed, and told Genis all he knew about the matter: his father's abduction, his journey in Tethe'alla, his discovery of the box of treasures on the top of that remote mountain. Of course, he left out the bit about Virginia and discovering his best friend was secretly a half-elf.

It felt nice to have someone to talk to after all that time behind fences, alone and perpetually exhausted. When they took breathers every few miles or so, he would piece together parts from his adventures. Colette and Genis listened attentively, Raine scouted ahead, pretending not to hear, and Sheena hovered over him only to swoop down with corrections regarding his slight exaggerations on her sudden fall into the mineshaft.

By the time it got dark and they set up camp, Lloyd had gotten as far as Luin. From there, he didn't know if he could continue. Luckily for him, the others occupied themselves with building a fire and getting food ready, and they didn't push him to talk about it. Instead Sheena stirred the pot and Colette unrolled her sleeping gear.

"One of you, near the food pack," Sheena said without taking her eyes from the pot, "Can you throw me some coriander?"

"Why don't you let me cook once in a while?" Raine asked, handing her a bundle of dried herbs.

"Because we value our lives," Genis replied, before getting smacked in the back of the head.

"You have some studying to do, Genis, so get to it."

"Aw, sis, come on."

"World Regeneration is no excuse to quit school." Genis groaned but pulled a giant book from his pack. "You too, Lloyd. If you're serious about coming with us then you have to learn some things. Since you two go to the same school you can use his books."

"What?" Lloyd spat. "I don't… I can't… I wouldn't be able to keep up." His father never made him study on his trips. But then again, his father didn't seem to care that much about his grades.

"Nonsense," Raine said. "From now on, you're Genis' classmate, and that makes me your professor. So you'd better let Genis help you catch up."

"Some good that'll do," Genis muttered. "Lloyd's about as sharp as a post."

"Genis! If he goes to your school, he's smart enough."

"Um…" Lloyd looked for an escape. "I'm going to go take a leak—a walk. Both. Whatever." He strode out of their small campsite and into the dark, creeping along until the dull orange glow of the fire disappeared behind him. When he was sure he was far enough away that Raine wouldn't follow him with a textbook, he found a grassy ledge and sat to look at the stars. They were dim this evening, obscured by smoke. A pillar of ash ballooned up into the sky miles away, where the remains of the human ranch smoldered. He thought about what happened to everyone who escaped. They didn't seem to have gone back to Luin—maybe they were flooding Asgard, or Hima. He wondered if there was enough food for all the escapees, or if they had anywhere to go. He shook his head. Anywhere was better than the ranch. They still had done the right thing.

"Are you watching the sky?" Without him even noticing, the Chosen had sat down beside him. Somehow he wasn't startled by her sudden presence—it was more comforting than anything. He was just amazed that Colette had slipped past Raine's protective radar to come find him.

"Uh. Yeah."

"Do you know all the constellations?"

"Most of them. My dad taught them to me when I was a kid. I'd sit on his shoulders and—" Suddenly memories flooded him and his heart felt like it was being squeezed dry. He put his hand to his forehead. "And we'd look at them together." And his mother was there, he was pretty sure. Or maybe she wasn't. Was she dead by then? Gah, he couldn't think.

Colette's hand found his and his mind instantly cleared. He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at her.

"Does Raine make you study too?"

She shook her head. "This late in the Regeneration, there wouldn't be much of a point."

"Why not?"

"Well, I… Well…"

Lloyd tilted his head at her and squeezed her hand. She didn't seem to be able to feel it.

"I'm the Chosen. My job doesn't really involve school."

"Oh. I guess you're more concerned with saving the world, huh?"

She nodded, smiling sadly. Lloyd got a terrible feeling in his gut, like he was a trapped animal, but he couldn't say why. He scooted closer to Colette instead.

"Besides," she said. "School was hard for me. It was difficult for me to make friends."

Lloyd looked at his feet. "When I was little, I didn't have any friends either. I wasn't allowed to talk to the other kids, at least when my dad was around. I didn't make any friends until I went to school, and then… well… it was only Genis. But I had a weird life, moving around a lot. I can't imagine you being friendless. You're the Chosen."

"I think that was part of the reason why."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with the Chosen? You're famous."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"I'll be friends with you," he said. A clumsy grin plastered itself on her face. Gods, she was cute. Lloyd turned red and let go of her hand. "Um… well, the soup must be ready by now. You wanna go eat?"

Colette followed him back to camp, but she didn't eat much. She tried to make it look like she was eating, but she wasn't—Lloyd had seen it before with his dad. He decided to keep an eye on her to make sure she was all right.

Over the next few days, he and Colette would chat nightly, sometimes well into the early morning. She never seemed to get tired, and when Lloyd would wake up beside her the next day, she would already be up an about, playing with Noishe, cooking breakfast or just sitting beside him.

Often, he would shake himself awake from nightmares, sometimes several times a night, and Colette would be there instantly, as if it was her job to watch over him while he slept.

The first time he bolted upright in the night only to find Colette sitting next to him, he thought he had woken everyone in camp. "Oh, crap," he whispered to her. "Did I scream or something? Did I say anything embarrassing?"

She smiled at him. "No, no screaming, and you didn't say anything much. You've just been tossing for a while now."

"Oh. Sorry I woke you up."

She shrugged. "I was already up. It's all right. Just go back to sleep, there are still a few hours before dawn."

Lloyd lay his head back down and stared into the sky. Colette crossed her legs and began to hum, so Lloyd closed his eyes and let her sing him back to sleep. More often than not, she would stay up all night humming quietly to herself, while Lloyd and the others slept. He tried to keep an eye on her, especially at night, and especially during meals, and soon there was no doubt about it. Whatever ailment she had was the same as his father's.

One night, when Raine and Genis were finished forcing him to study, he confronted Colette out of the camp's earshot. "You don't sleep, do you?" he said.

"What? Of course I do."

"And you don't eat."

"Yes I do."

Lloyd shook his head. "I know. I've seen this before. My dad has the same problem you do."

"Is your dad an angel?" she blurted before covering her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing, I shouldn't have said anything." She glanced nervously into the distance.

Lloyd sat and pulled her down beside him. "Don't worry, Colette. I won't tell anybody."

She looked at the ground. "Well, Raine already knows. I don't think Genis or Sheena do, though."

"Know what?"

"Every time I release a seal, every time I get a little closer to Regeneration, I become more and more like an angel."

"Yeah, we all know that. I've seen your wings."

"But that means that I lose something that I think… keeps me human." Lloyd put his hand on hers and she didn't seem to notice. "I stopped getting hungry. I stopped needing sleep. And now… Now I can't really feel anything. I'm worried that at the next seal, I'll—"

Lloyd squeezed her hand. "Angel or not, you're still Colette."

"But Lloyd," she said, "becoming an angel means that I'm going to die—"

He only squeezed harder, unsure if she could even feel him. "Die? Hell no. Nobody has to die. I'm not going to let that happen."

She sighed, defeated, then flashed him a feeble smile. "Thank you, Lloyd. Thank you for everything."

Lloyd wondered why she felt that she had to confide in him rather than the companions she knew much better, but he was still grateful she came to him. For some reason he felt as if he had known her forever. And probably for that same mysterious reason, Colette had the same sentiments toward him. Instantly, and apparently out of nowhere, they seemed to share some intangible, inexplicable bond. Each night of their journey, they uncovered a little more of it, like slowly excavating a fossil.

"I think maybe in our past lives we were trees," Colette said one night, looking up at the sky and laying beside him.

"Huh," he said, eyes drooping. "Really?"

"We would always watch the sky at night, right here, in this very spot, for hundreds of years. We wouldn't talk, though, we would only rustle in the wind, and the breeze would carry our words for us. Until one day, a woodsman came and cut us down, and we became walls in his home. We lit his fires and became beds for his children."

Lloyd wasn't quite sure if he liked the ending of her little story. "I think I'd like to be a tree again someday," he yawned.

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, trees don't worry. They don't have to kill or fight. And they don't dream."

Colette looked back into the sky. "No, they don't. No dreams, no nightmares. What do you dream about, Lloyd?"

"I don't remember," he lied. "I don't remember at all."

* * *

"All right, Lloyd. I've done enough research that I think I'll be able to remove it. Take off your other one."

Raine sat beside him, medical text open and ready, boiling what Lloyd could only guess were surgical tools. He gulped. Pull yourself together, Lloyd, he told himself, you've been through this before—dozens of times. It'll be less painful than the exams at the ranch.

He removed what he had come to think of his mother from his right hand, and felt cold and helpless as soon as he did. He separated the key crest from the exsphere and moved it to his left hand, where it didn't quite fit the crystal he was growing there. He sighed, and hoped this would work.

"Is the key crest on?" Raine asked. Sheena, Colette and Genis watched from a few feet away, as if afraid to approach the operation.

"Just don't blow him up like you do your cooking and we'll be fine," Genis said, probably only half-joking.

"Sheena. Smack him for me."

"Ow! Jeez, not you too."

Raine looked at Lloyd in all seriousness. "Are you ready?"

He nodded nervously. Raine retrieved her tools from the water and went to work. He tried not to watch but couldn't help himself. Raine first cleaned his hand, slowly and meticulously, then bent over it with a scalpel. He flinched at the sharp sting of the metal, but it was no worse than his usual checkups. Then he felt the exsphere pull at his skin. Just moving the thing hurt like hell, but this was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His head swirled, his vision blurred—it felt like a thick mud was tumbling through him. The burning pain spread from his exsphere, through his limbs, and out through his skin. He was on fire, black fire, it spread into every vein and into every muscle, turning him to stone. The scream that came from him wasn't his; it was monstrous, evil, so utterly tortured that even he couldn't stand it.

And then the pain was gone. His vision cleared and he saw Raine, looking terrified, bloody scalpel still in hand. He looked down at his arm and his jaw dropped. His veins looked like they were bursting from his greenish skin, his hand was clenched, deformed. He yelled in pain and dismay, arm trembling, until whatever disease his exsphere contained seemed to seep back into the stone, and his arm slowly returned to normal. He clutched his throbbing hand, terrified.

"Forgive me," Raine said, shaking. "I couldn't, I just…"

"It's all right," he managed to say, flexing his quivering arm. He had never heard of a safe removal of an exsphere, once implanted. He didn't know why he'd been so optimistic about this. He'd seen many people go into the medical wing of the human ranch to get theirs removed, and they only came out again to go to the crematorium, withered, grey, and most definitely dead. "How long do I have?" he asked.

Raine sighed. "I don't know. If we find a key crest that fits it, then we might be able to buy you some time, but I'm not sure how long. I'm sorry, Lloyd."

Lloyd stood up, stilling his arm and taking a deep breath. "Well, either way, we have to finish the Regeneration, or else this sort of thing will keep on happening." He tapped his exsphere and flinched at the pain.

"Lloyd…" Colette stepped toward him. He looked into her eyes and saw a very familiar sadness.

At that moment he realized it. _That_ was their bond. That was what held he and Colette together, but he had not realized it before. Somehow, deep in their guts, they knew they both ran on borrowed time. As the party made their way toward the Tower of Mana and the final seal, it was this fact that solidified their kinship. Suddenly it seemed that since Colette knew he was as doomed as she was, she began to open up to him.

"To tell the truth," she said one night as they stargazed at their usual time, "I'm not ready to die."

"None of us are," Lloyd said, eyes following a shooting star across the horizon. He was terrified even to think about either of them dying.

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad if people weren't afraid of getting close to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's as if they already knew my fate, and didn't want to take the time to get to know a girl who wouldn't live that long."

"Their loss, Colette."

"Even my own father seemed… distant."

Oh boy. If there was anything Lloyd was an expert on, it was distant fathers. He sat up. "Eh, my dad was the same way. And I wasn't even the Chosen. He just didn't want me around." Maybe he was afraid Lloyd would find out what he did to his mother. Maybe it was pure guilt. He clenched his fists thinking of his father. As soon as he got him back, he would punch the bastard into next week.

"Maybe he just wanted to keep you safe," she answered.

He was about to ask, "From what?" when he remembered Kvar, the ranch, his mother. Then he knew why Kratos was such a coward when it came to Desians—he was afraid of them harvesting his son. But it didn't matter in the end, did it? They got him, and he was going to die. And maybe after the exsphere sucked him dry, the Desians would rob his body and get both their precious Angelus exspheres back.

Colette seemed to sense his thoughts swinging in a dark direction, so she reached out for his hand and brought him back. Gods, who was he to despair about his own death when she had been damned form birth? He looked her over, her kind eyes, her hand enclosing his, and he frowned. A bit nervously, he wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, "I'm not going to let you die. We'll find another way."

She only sighed and let him hug her. He felt her arms snake around him and they sat there, not daring to move, lest whatever fragile comfort they found in one another should fall apart. Over his own quiet breathing, he could feel vibrations like light coursing through him, and he realized that Colette had begun to sing. Her voice carried across the valley—it seemed to touch the sky and rebound back into his ears, comforting him.

_Rest easy, my darling,_  
_In the milky winter dawn,_  
_For I have loved you,_  
_And you have loved me._

_I'm going home,_  
_I'm going back_  
_To where the waves break_  
_And summer never ends._

_I will wait for you_  
_At the edge of the water,_  
_All I ask from you today_  
_Is that you kiss me once before I go._

Lloyd fell asleep before she could reach the second verse. He clutched her lap as a child might cling to his mother, snoring slightly, and she stroked his hair. His cheeks were wet; she suspected he had cried a little bit before passing out, so she wiped them with a gentle hand.

She had had her whole life to prepare for her moment—but he had been swept up in death like a forceful river, unknowing, caught off his guard. He was going to have to do some serious coping if he was going to accept his fate—no. No, she wouldn't let that happen. What good was she as a Chosen if she couldn't even save one person? She would find a way to make him live. She would find him a key crest, a miracle worker, something. But for now, she would let him sleep on her lap all night, and she would not move. She would keep his nightmares at bay and make sure he didn't wake up until well past dawn.


	13. Ghosts

Kratos thought he heard whispers of movement behind him. He tried to turn his head, but the stiff pain in his neck kept him facing forward. He looked down at himself and couldn't see what was holding him back, what was keeping his arms suspended and his legs still. He couldn't see anything at all except a landscape of absolute blackness. But he could still hear.

Rustling. Shuffling. Something was following him. Or it would be, if he were able to move. At that moment he knew something monstrous, something evil, would emerge from the all-encompassing darkness and devour him like a sacrifice on an altar. So be it. He would meet it when it came.

He steeled himself, preparing for a desperate struggle, but what appeared from the black expanse was not a monster, it was not death, but a white-clad boy who shone and flickered like a star in the vastness of night. He grinned, spreading his arms and flowing toward Kratos, bringing the light with him.

Kratos smiled weakly. "Mithos…" was all he could whisper. His throat was too dry to speak properly. Otherwise, he would question that boy all day: what was he doing in a gloomy place like this, with so many monsters about? Did he have Lloyd with him? And on a night this dark, where were the stars?

Mithos floated like an apparition toward him, luminous and silent. He wrapped his arms around Kratos' waist and lay his head on his chest. Kratos felt the boy squeeze him tight, and regretted that his arms were too weak to return the favor. He only stood there, suspended in darkness, as Mithos embraced him.

"Kratos," the boy said, quietly. "I hope you know that I'm doing this because I care about you. I care about all of us."

"Doing what?" Kratos muttered, half-smiling at the kid. He sure had some strange things to say—

Something pierced his back, digging into the tender area under his ribs. He gasped and tensed up, stretching his spine to escape the pain. His arms trembled but he still couldn't move them of his own accord.

"This will hurt less if you don't make a fuss about it."

What was... why...

Kratos groaned and opened his eyes. Everything was clouded in a purple haze, heavy and inescapable. He had no control over his own body, he couldn't stop the sharp pain crawling up his spine, he couldn't even cry out. His lungs felt like dust, his head like weakly smoldering ash.

Mithos stood before him—no, that wasn't Mithos. It was someone much older, much crueler… he just looked so much like him. But Kratos could be mistaken, he _hoped_ he was mistaken; after all, he could hardly see anything. Wings fluttered around him, blue light crept in at the edge of his vision, and the pain continued. It made its way slowly but inexorably up his back, past his shoulders, down his arms. Wherever hands pinched his skin, a sharp poke followed, then a dull ache. He tried to move his head to examine what was happening to him.

"Don't do that," the boy that was not Mithos said. "You'll only make it worse."

Slowly, torturously, everything came back to Kratos, and he remembered where he was. He remembered this strange boy before him, the one who looked so much like Mithos but was who far too different. "What… are…" He could barely speak, he was so drained.

"Do you like it? It's my way of keeping you safe, until we get Martel back."

Kratos struggled to keep his eyes open, glancing to his right, then left, and back to his right before lowering his head. The things coming out of his arms looked like tubes, but for all Kratos could make out they could've been tall blades of grass or thin feathers. His arm twitched and a he felt a sharp pain where his skin had broken. He thought he could see blood drip, but he didn't know what that meant. He didn't know what any of it meant.

"You're a slippery man, Kratos," Mithos smiled. "Hard to catch, hard to keep. I don't think you'll be getting out of this one by yourself. I made sure of that. The machine's a recent invention by Rodyle, believe it or not. It enhances the mana seal, and keeps you healthy. Well, sort of. I can't have you wasting away on me, but I can't have you strong enough to escape either. So for now…" Mithos leaned in and embraced Kratos once more, careful to avoid the equipment now protruding from his back. "Rest. Wait. Martel will be with us soon, I know it."

Mithos let him go and backed up, followed by a flurry of wings.

Kratos couldn't tell if the blurry wave of feathers belonged to him, or to Mithos' henchmen. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't… He tried to yell, to call out to Mithos, to tell him to stop, to threaten him, to smack some sense into him like a proper father should… but he could only groan.

"Oh, and Kratos," Mithos added. "If Yuan comes back to talk to you, say hello for me. Tell him his days are numbered." With a cheerful smile, Mithos again disappeared into the hazy darkness and left Kratos alone.

* * *

Lloyd recognized the Tower of Mana almost immediately—he and his dad had camped out here once, in its looming shadow, where his father had decided it would be a wonderful idea to tell ghost stories. Lloyd remembered barely sleeping at all that night, jumping at every little sound, every little shadow. He didn't get to sleep until his father relocated his bedroll to right next to his, and even then Lloyd couldn't rest until he was safely nestled in the crook of his dad's arm.

Colette approached the door, hand outstretched. Lloyd, like any other visitor to this tower, knew the door had been sealed for years, but it creaked opened for the Chosen. They all made their way toward the darkened entrance, but Noishe, sensing danger, decided to wait outside.

"Will he be okay?" Colette asked.

"Yeah, he always is," Lloyd answered. "He's just kinda scared of everything."

So they left the dog in the shadow of the tower and followed the others inside. "We've been here before," Genis told him as he passed through the large doorway. He examined the room around him to see bookshelves lining the walls, light pouring through stained glass windows—he had never seen a room so beautiful.

"You have?" he asked.

"This was where we found that medical book that Raine's been using so much—the Boltzmann one. We had to use it to get Pedro to talk about how he escaped from the ranch."

"Yeah, that was a long journey," Sheena sighed, as if even remembering it were exhausting. "We had to get a unicorn horn."

"But we couldn't reach the unicorn, since it was at the bottom of the lake," Colette said. "So Sheena had to make a pact with Undine, the water spirit. It was amazing."

Lloyd wished desperately that he had been with them instead of being tortured at the human ranch, but Kvar had been right when he said we can't all get what we want.

They got lost in the deeper halls of the tower sometime during the afternoon, and when it got dark they built a fire in one of the building's many fireplaces. Lloyd broke a few chairs and threw the legs into the flames, and they all sat around the blaze. He tried to recall one of his father's stories, and after a few minutes he thought he had remembered enough to improvise.

"So, my dad told me this spooky story once," he said, and they all looked at him expectantly.

"I hate ghost stories," Sheena said, shivering.

"Tell us, Lloyd," Genis said.

"Okay, so there was this lady, and she had a lover, or, wait, it was the lord who had the common lover, but they couldn't be together. So they got together and killed themselves. Or wait, it was murder, and… she drowned or something. And then, in a fit of rage, he killed himself, and then, um, damn." He couldn't remember for the life of him.

"That's the worst ghost story I've ever heard," Genis said, visibly displeased.

"Shut up, Genis," Lloyd said. He was racking his brain, still trying to remember.

Sheena looked relieved, and Colette offered, "Well, at least it wasn't that long?"

"Perhaps we should save the ghost stories for a time when we are not literally surrounded by specters," Raine suggested helpfully.

"But that's just improving the ambiance," Genis said. "There's no better time to tell ghost stories. I know one, about two kids who were best friends, but one of them dared the other to sleep overnight in a haunted house…"

* * *

Lloyd dreamt of ghosts that night. Before him was a weak fire, and he had to keep stoking it, lest the shadows creep in and possess him. He piled logs onto it, panic building, until he saw his father, sitting on the other side of the flames. He looked underfed and exhausted, but smiled when he saw Lloyd.

"Do you know why these doors are sealed?" he asked.

Lloyd, now about eight years old, shook his head.

"Well, there was once a great family who lived here—a duke of the Sylvarant Dynasty. He had a son, who was perfect in every way, except he was in love with the wrong woman."

Lloyd leaned forward, intrigued.

"She was a woman of lowly origin, but he loved her nonetheless. She worked the fields, had a strong back and a strong will. She insisted that if he really loved her, he take her as his bride even if his family disapproved. Well, he did, and his powerful family responded by locking him in the tower. They sealed the front door and vowed to never let him out until he declared that he no longer loved her—he never gave into their demands. He died up there at the top of the tower, but his lover never knew. She would come to the tower every day and try to get in, and get turned away every time. Years passed; she grew old and grey, but still every day she would go to the tower and try to find a way in. She never did. One day, the family found her corpse on the doorstep, hand outstretched toward the door. Years afterward, the family's guards would report strange howls and the sounds of footsteps on this very terrace. She was still looking for him, and if anyone stood too close to a window or a door, she would push them out of the way, sometimes to their death. Nothing would stop her from getting in the tower to see her lover. So Lloyd, don't sleep too close to the door or she might get you."

Lloyd started crying with fear, then realized he was almost eighteen and was too old to be scared by this sort of thing. He stood up, shedding his eight-year-old body. "Dad," he said, regaining composure. "Tell me a ghost story about mum."

His father stared at the fire for a few solid minutes before lifting his face to him. He looked old, so very old. "Please don't make me do that," he said.

Lloyd was persistent. "I need to know. Tell me a story."

His father closed his eyes, resigned. "There once was a man who didn't deserve to be loved. And there was a woman who loved him anyway. She traveled with him, saved his skin a few times, even married him eventually. They had a son together, and for a short time all seemed like it was well. But the man had gotten mixed up with the wrong sort of people—they were out to get him. They came for him, but they got his wife instead. They tried to kill his son. And through all the hiding, the horror, the fear and pain, she loved him still. Contrary to all logic, she loved him, and she loved their son. And he repaid her by running her through. Or slitting her throat, I can't remember every little detail."

Lloyd stood silently for a few moments. "There were no ghosts in that story."

"There's one right there," Kratos answered, pointing to the benevolent blue exsphere on Lloyd's hand. He lifted it and examined its unearthly light before turning back to his father, who was looking more and more like a ghoul each second.

"Dad?" he asked.

"What, Lloyd?"

"Did you really do it?"

Kratos didn't answer. Instead he looked up and said, "Someone's behind you."

Lloyd awoke with a jolt. He glanced behind him, frightened, but saw it was only Raine, reading by the dim firelight. He sat up.

"Can you not sleep?" he asked her. "Was it Genis' ghost story?"

"Oh no, Lloyd, I'm far too old to be frightened by any of that."

"So, what are you doing?"

"I'm reading Boltzmann. I'm wondering if there was anything I missed that made the exsphere removal go awry."

Lloyd sighed and scooted up beside her. "When I was at the ranch, there wasn't one person that survived getting their exsphere removed. It's not your fault. It's the Desians'."

"Thank you, Lloyd," she said, "but I can't help wondering: what good are my skills if I can't even save one life?"

"Sheena says you saved her in Luin. She was sure she was a goner. You saved me, after the ranch. You're good at that, Raine, it's in your—" He was about to say "blood" but he stopped himself just in time.

Her eyes flickered at him, like an animal suddenly threatened. "In my what?"

"Uh… your nature," he managed to recover.

"I hope you don't mean anything racist or sexist by that," she said. "But I never understand half the nonsense you spout." She leaned back over her book, trying to ignore him.

He watched her eyes flick back and forth over the pages of the book, glinting in the dim firelight. She did look like her mother, almost uncannily so. A little part of Lloyd's heart missed that crazy old lady. She had been the closest thing he'd had to a mother all his life, and he had only known her for a few weeks. He wondered if that officially made him and Genis brothers of some sort. He could live with that. Even a crazy mother was better than a dead mother.

"Can I sit up with you?" he asked Raine.

"If you wish."

He looked around him, making sure the others were asleep. He knew Colette wasn't, but she was pretending pretty well. She was also far enough away from the fire that she probably couldn't hear them. This might be his only chance, without the others knowing.

"Raine," he whispered, and she closed her book and stared at him. "I know you don't really trust me. And I don't blame you. There's something… Well, there's something I've… kind of been hiding from you." He reached into the pack beside him and pulled out Virginia's diary. "I know you guys are half-elves."

"Shh!" Raine hissed, looking at their sleeping companions. "Colette is probably awake—she'll hear. I don't know where you heard that but you must know that Genis and I are elves, not half-elves."

Lloyd handed over the diary. "I'm sorry. I should've given you this sooner."

Raine took it from his suspiciously, but after a few minutes of flipping through it, she covered her mouth, eyes watery. Lloyd could tell that she was having a hard time keeping her voice in. "Where did you get this?" she whispered.

"From your mother. She helped me when I first got to Tethe'alla. She's a genius, Raine. But she's a little nuts… well, read her diary, is all I can say. I only got halfway through before it got too hard for me."

Raine looked at him in disbelief. "I don't know whether to thank you or to smack you," she said quietly.

"You smack me enough," Lloyd answered.

"Excuse me," Raine said, standing. She walked into the darkness beyond the fire, taking the diary with her. Lloyd could see her shoulders shaking as she left, and knew she was crying.

Guilt rushed through him. Here he was, well-meaning as always, and he had made her cry. He didn't mean to upset her, especially since they already had such a tenuous relationship. He only knew that she, like everyone, deserved to know the truth. He stayed up for a while, watching the shadows into which she had disappeared, and waited for her to return. She didn't come back to the fire, so he thought he should go look for her in case she had run into trouble. He didn't know what sort of harm the ghosts of the tower could do to the living besides frighten them, but he followed her tracks anyway.

He found her at the end of a silent hall, staring out a cobwebbed casement, clutching the book to her chest. "Raine?" he said quietly.

She turned to him, and in the dim moonlight shining through the dusty window, he could see tears staining her cheeks. "Lloyd. I don't know what to think. Is she all right? I couldn't bear to read the diary. Only the first dozen or so pages."

"She's… fine. A little out there, but she's alive and she has people to take care of her."

That didn't seem to comfort Raine. She only bit her lip, trying to bottle her sobs inside. "How could she do that?" she said. Lloyd stepped toward her, and she didn't shoo him away. "How could she abandon us like that?"

"I can't speak for her," Lloyd said. "But she did care about you. She… told me to find you when I left her. She said she's sorry. I think she's had it rough. Things are hard in Tethe'alla—for half-elves, I mean. Really hard."

"That's no excuse to abandon your children!" Raine spat, red-faced.

Lloyd had never seen her so upset. She was usually so collected. It pained him to have been the cause of her emotional breakdown, so he stepped closer, daring to put a hand on her shaking shoulder. "I'm sorry," was all he could say.

To his surprise, she let out a short, self-abasing chuckle. "Look at me. A grown woman crying over things long past, when you lost your father only a short while ago."

"It's all right," Lloyd said. He knew nothing was really all right, but perhaps that was the best thing to say.

"Lloyd… if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"Oh. Okay. Don't get into any trouble out here."

"Don't worry about me," she smiled weakly. "Ghosts don't scare me. It's the living I'm worried about."

"Goodnight, Raine."

"Goodnight, Lloyd. Try not to have so many nightmares."

Lloyd frowned, a little embarrassed. "I'll try."

He silently walked back to the fire and sat down, staring into the flames.

"What happened?" he heard Colette ask. He bet she'd been trying her hardest to eavesdrop. "Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Lloyd said. He smiled at her. "Really."

"Good." She lay back down and pretended to fall asleep.

Lloyd sighed, threw his blanket over him, curled on his side, and tried not to think about his father's old ghost story. He closed his eyes, commanding himself to fall asleep, but he could only imagine his mother, banging at the door to the tower for eternity, trying to get inside…

* * *

Morning came too slowly.

Lloyd awoke with a groan, and looked around him. The others were already up, eating a cold breakfast. Raine and Genis glanced over at him, and something in their faces told him that they both knew about Virginia's dairy. Raine must've talked to Genis about it early in the morning. He didn't know how they would react, but he had done what he knew was right, and beyond that, it was up to Raine and Genis to either forgive him for hiding the journal or hate him for it. He stood, yawning.

Sheena threw a biscuit at him. "Eat," she said. "We'll be making it to the top of the tower today."

"You think so?" he said, biting into the stale bread. That seemed optimistic to him, but as he packed his bedroll and pulled on his boots, he thought that it sounded like a good plan.

They made their way upwards, seemingly endlessly. Raine and Colette took the lead, followed closely by Sheena, and Genis fell back to join Lloyd at the rear. Genis stared ahead, as if making sure everyone was out of earshot before he quietly said, "Hey, Lloyd."

Lloyd immediately knew what this was about. "What?"

"You still… you're still my friend, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you still like me even though I'm a… well…"

"For someone so smart you sure can be pretty dumb." Genis frowned and Lloyd sighed. "Genis, you're the type of friend who would forgive a guy who tried to assassinate savior of the world. Why would I give up a friend like that? Of _course_ I still like you, Genis. And I think it's wrong that you've had to hide your race for so long."

Genis looked relieved. "Well, I thought that, you know, after what the Desians did to you..."

"You're nothing like them," he said.

"I know. Raine keeps telling me we're not like them. That we're different. But sometimes I see what they do, and I feel… like they're the reason people don't like us, you know?"

"Genis…"

"How is she?" he asked. "Our mother?"

Lloyd shrugged. "She's doing fine, I think. She's… a little crazy."

"Yeah, Raine read some of her diary last night and said it's better if we never meet her."

"I'm sorry, Genis, that sucks."

"Nah. Raine has been a good enough mother. And you haven't seen yours since you could remember. It's not all bad."

Lloyd thought of his father, of his dream, and of the doomed love story. "No," he said. "It's not all bad."

"Hey, Lloyd," Genis said after a few minutes. "Thank you for giving Raine that diary. I think it really helped her get over some things."

"Oh. No worries," Lloyd answered. "I'm just sorry I kept it from you guys for so long."

"It's okay. It was a little bit of a revelation, but I think we're better off for it. You don't know how hard it was on her. Raising me by herself, in an unfriendly world. Especially given our… parentage. Just don't tell the others, right? About us?"

"I think you should tell them yourself."

Genis bit his lip. "I'll talk to Raine, but I don't think that's a good idea."

Lloyd had faith enough in Sheena and Colette that they wouldn't judge those two for simply being half-blooded, but you never know. Both worlds had prejudices, and everyone from each had their own unique racial hang-ups. Lloyd couldn't fix that, but he could do his best to try. He thought that letting Genis and Raine come to terms with their bloodline on their own time might be a good first step.

* * *

"Holy hell, people!" Lloyd panted. "You didn't tell me there was that... _thing_ guarding the seal!"

Raine raised an eyebrow. "You seemed to handle it fine."

"Well, yeah, but seriously. Try to warn me next time." Both of his exspheres burned—his right with power, his left with pain.

"Sure thing, Lloyd," Sheena wheezed, hands on her knees, but she had seemed just as surprised as he did. Raine, Genis and Colette, who had obviously been through this several times before, remained unfazed. The Chosen simply approached the altar and knelt. Lloyd wanted to tell her to wait up, to think about it for a second, before she released the seal and lost something that made her human. But she raised her hands to the sky and summoned a pillar of light before he could even open his mouth to protest.

He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't what appeared at the altar before the Chosen. An angel descended from the searing light, white-winged, slender, noble, but still of the same breed that had attacked him and his father at the Tower of Salvation. Before he could stop himself, he drew his sword. His left exsphere, still active from the fight, released its darkness into his veins, and he gripped Flamberge's hilt, preparing to cut the bastard down.

He would make the angel talk. He would make him tell him what had happened to his dad, he would—

"What do you think you're doing?" Raine hissed at him, grabbing his arm. She pulled him back, and before he could shake her off, Sheena grabbed his other one and gripped it tight.

"Hold your horses, kid," she said.

"This is _supposed_ to happen," Raine whispered to him.

Lloyd twitched, trying to stop himself from single-handedly derailing the entire World Regeneration for the sake of his father. He told the exsphere to quiet down, to suck back the anger from him and leave him alone. Eventually he managed to suppress the urge to attack the angel; he just stood and seethed as the Chosen prayed fervently. Both she and the angel ignored him; lost in their own universe of ancient rituals and dead languages. The angel spoke to her in words Lloyd couldn't understand, and she kept kneeling, head bowed, for what seemed like hours. When eventually she turned from the dais, the angel disappeared. She smiled, clasped her hands to her chest, and fell forward, unconscious.

"Not again," Raine said, running to catch her. She lowered her to the ground. "We should let her rest."

"Does she do this every time?" Lloyd asked.

"Yeah," Genis answered. "It's hard on her."

They blanketed Colette and stood by her under the cloudless sky. "Who was that guy?" Lloyd asked.

"Remiel. He's Colette's guide," Genis said. "He's the one that tests her and helps her become an angel."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at the altar, now empty. "He looked just like the angels that took my dad."

"_Angels_ attacked you?" Raine said. "You didn't mention that before. I suppose it explains why you were itching to get to him. But you must learn to control yourself, Lloyd, or you'll jeopardize everything we've done so far."

"I'm sorry," he said.

Raine crossed her arms. "What in the world did your father do to incur the wrath of the angels? Was he an opponent of the Regeneration?"

"I don't know," Lloyd answer. "I honestly don't. It seemed… we had to hide out a lot."

"This is getting quite interesting," Raine muttered to herself.

Colette stirred and opened her eyes before anyone could prod Raine for answers.

Lloyd leaned over her, squeezing her hand. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

When she opened her mouth, no words came out. She wrinkled her nose in confusion, and tried again. Still, no sound. Instead, she just nodded, and Lloyd knew that she had lost her voice. He clutched her hand and helped her to her feet.

"We should head to the Tower of Salvation," Raine said passively.

"What?" Lloyd barked. "Look at her! She's barely recovered from this last seal. We can't take her yet."

Colette shook her head, seeming to insist she was fine. Wordlessly, she picked up her things and set off. She led the rest of them down the thousands of stairs, through the halls, libraries and sitting rooms, until they finally reached the bottom of the tower. By the time they emerged into the clean, natural air, the sun was already partly obscured by the surrounding hills. They made camp on the terrace of the tower, much like Lloyd had all those years ago with his father. Before he unpacked his things, he scanned the distance for Noishe, but saw no sign of him. He'd probably sniff them out by morning.

So Lloyd crawled onto his bedroll and tried to fall asleep. He wished for a dead, dreamless night, so he would not have any unwelcome visitations, but he just couldn't seem to get comfortable. He stared at the sky for a while before he heard Colette crawl to the edge of camp and get up. He saw her leave, and decided to follow her.

He found her at the far end of the terrace, leaning over an ancient, crumbling handrail. She stared into the distance, motionless. "Colette," he whispered, and she turned around, trying to smile. He walked up next to her and leaned over the rail, looking at the stars. He could tell she was suffering, but he didn't know what he could say to make her feel better. So he just stood next to her in silence, until she reached for his hand. She lifted it and began to write in his palm.

_I'm sorry_, she wrote.

"What the hell are you sorry for?" he said.

_For making everyone worry._

"Colette…"

_You had a nightmare last night._

"Yeah. Kind of."

_Tell me._

Lloyd stared at his palm for a moment, the traces of her movement still tingling his skin. "Do you really want to know what I dream about?" he asked.

_Yes._

He sighed. "When it's not about my father… I dream of Kvar. He's just as I left him, but he's still alive, still standing. He has my sword in his heart, but he's laughing. He tells me… he tells me he's proud of me, that I've been a good son. And the worst part is, for a moment, in my dream, I believe him. It's like he knows everything I don't. He knows that killing him won't bring back my mother, he knows that everything I do just makes the exsphere grow better. And that's exactly what he wants. He always gets what he wants. I envy him, I really do, at those moments." As if summoned by his words, his left exsphere sent a mild twinge up his arm. He trembled slightly as he tried to banish that agonizing power back into the little stone, to put it back where it came from, to leave him be.

Colette's hand found his and the pain disappeared. He didn't know how she did it, but every time her skin touched his, the exsphere seemed to retreat, at least momentarily. He figured it must be a Chosen thing.

She lifted his hand and wrote in it: _That's not you_.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She shook her head. _That person in your dream is not you_.

He half-smiled, appreciating the sentiment, even if it was beyond him. "I don't really understand."

She only continued writing, as if she hadn't heard him. _I wish I could still sing for you. You'd sleep better._

"Don't worry about it. I'll remember that song you sang me the next time I have trouble sleeping."

She squeezed his palm. _Rest easy, my darling._

He smiled. "Yeah. That's the one." He stared at her for a minute before saying, "You know, you shouldn't wander by yourself." He led her by the hand back to camp, and she sat down beside him. "Do you mind if I go to sleep?" he asked. She shook her head. "If you want company, just shake me. I'll stay up with you." She bit her lip and nodded. She looked like she wanted to tear up, but her eyes were dry. He lay down, took her hand in his, and closed his eyes. He had no dreams that night.


	14. The Tower Revisited

They walked on in silence. Only the crunching of their footsteps and Noishe's panting accompanied their seemingly interminable march forward. Forever forward, toward the Tower, toward the restoration of the world, and the pitiless apotheosis of Colette. Lloyd didn't know what he would do when that moment came, no matter how hard he thought about it. He imagined the scenario with every step, over and over, eternally unable to produce a solution, as the green fields turned to forest, which turned into brown, bare mountain. Hima was close.

There seemed to be a lot less talking now that Colette had lost her voice. Lloyd didn't know if it was the party's solidarity with her during this phase of her transformation, or if she really was the driving force behind all conversation, but he kind of liked the silence. He'd lived most of his life in it, but considering his father, that wasn't much of a surprise. In the omnipresent wordlessness, he and Colette perfected their nonverbal communication. With a nod, blink, or tap, she could tell him almost anything. She even told him some of the answers in his textbooks when Raine and Genis weren't looking. Mostly she did this so that he could finish his studies early and go walking with her.

Their nightly sprees had not gone completely unnoticed by the others in the group. Every time he and Colette went walking Sheena would nod encouragingly to him, sometimes giving him a thumbs-up—for what reason, he had no idea. Genis sometimes watched them jealously, like they were going off on their own adventures and he wasn't invited. Raine, however, was the only one to actually speak with him about it.

She caught him alone one night, right while he was off to find the Chosen. "Lloyd. You put on a good front, but deep down inside that angry, insane little heart of yours, I know there's kindness," she said. "Maybe too much. Don't let it hurt you."

Lloyd wasn't sure if she was insulting him or trying to help him out. "I don't understand."

"You know what will happen to Colette when she reaches the Tower. And it pains me too, but you must be prepared. Loving her will only devastate you. I know, because I love her with all my heart. You must realize this."

"Professor." He had taken to calling her this, mostly out of instinct. "I'm as damned as she is. When she dies, I die."

"Lloyd…"

"Unless I can find a way for the both of us to live." He paused. "And I will. So don't worry about it." He pushed past her into the night. Raine stayed silent, beaten. There was nothing she could say to him to make him give up on Colette, and he figured she was smart enough to know that.

Lloyd found the Chosen on top of a hill, gazing at the sky, as usual. He sat down beside her, and she turned her head toward him and smiled weakly. Since she couldn't speak, he'd taken to telling her stories to pass the time. Stories of his old classmates, his adventures, his father. That night, he decided to tell her again about his and Sheena's journey to find and assassinate her. Halfway through his story, she sat up and reached for his hand.

_I'm glad you came to kill me,_ she wrote.

"What? Why?"

_Because otherwise I never would've met you._

"Don't be such a dork."

_Sorry._

"And stop apologizing."

_So_—she pulled her hand back, and set it in her lap, to stop herself. He laughed and scooted closer to her. They seemed to have run out of words, so Lloyd started humming the song she had sung him all those nights ago. He didn't know many of the words, but he thought he'd mostly got the tune down. When he looked over at Colette to see if he was doing it right, she stared at him with such agony in her eyes he felt his heart drop. He stopped humming, suddenly breathless.

"You can't even cry, can you?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Colette…"

She lifted his hand and began writing. _Lloyd, I have something to ask of you._

"What is it?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she wrote, _Kiss me once before I go._

Lloyd looked at her, at her pale face framed in golden hair, so ragged from her journey, but still glowing with a vivacious hope. Hope for her world, for everything. He couldn't deny her, couldn't deny that hope, so he took her face in his hands and kissed her. He pulled away, but couldn't help kissing her again. She wrapped her hands around his neck and drew him close.

When their lips parted, Lloyd looked into her eyes for some sign. "You didn't feel that at all, did you?" he asked. She stared up at him, brow furrowed. "You didn't… Colette…" He began to cry, burying his face in her shoulder. Her hands stroked the back of his head, his cheeks, his shoulders, but with each caress he only sobbed harder. He sat up, wiping his eyes. "Gods, I'm such a weepy bastard," he said. "I guess that's so I can cry for the both of us." Colette only gave him a sad smile. She looked so tired. Lloyd wished he could give her sleep. Sleep, and warmth, and sensation. But he couldn't.

He cursed himself for being such a gutless weakling. Maybe if he were stronger he wouldn't have to watch her go through this. Maybe he wouldn't have had to go through some of the things he'd gone through, either. He lay down on the grass and stared at the backs of his hands, at the two stones. One gave him strength, the other sapped it; one was going to kill him, the other one was keeping him alive. He didn't find the poetry of it very amusing, but knew Kvar would have something philosophical to say about it. He clenched his fists, trying not to think of him. And what would his father have to say if he found out Lloyd had gone and got himself turned into an exsphere host, moreover by the same man that had done it to his mother? He'd probably get a beating. Well, his dad was a bastard just like everyone else involved in all this exsphere business. He hoped when he saw him again, he could pulverize some answers out of him. Like why he was hiding his mother's exsphere in the mountains in the first place.

Colette, as usual, seemed to follow his mind down its darkest road and bring it back for him. She lay beside him and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him back into the present. He sighed, returning the favor, and they lay together in the warm night, afraid to pull apart. "Do you want me to stay up with you?" he asked.

She shook her head and traced a word on his chest. _Sleep_.

"Okay." He pulled her in tight, rested his forehead against hers, and fell into dreamless dark.

* * *

Hima was flooded with refugees. They had set up makeshift tents along the road, made of blankets or old clothes sewn together, and none of the poor wretches looked like they had seen food in weeks. Lloyd even recognized a few of them, but they may not have recognized him, now that he had gained his weight back.

They crawled from their tents when they saw the Chosen, reaching out to her. Silent, Colette reached back, touching as many outstretched hands as she could. She couldn't say anything to them, she could only tap them on her way to the town's inn. Some of the refugees got up and followed her, asking her questions, begging for her to save them. Unable to answer them, she kept going, wet eyes staring ahead, until they entered the inn's lobby. It was almost a relief to put a door between the Chosen and all those starving, sickly people.

The innkeeper, inundated with fugitives, had done his best to make room for everyone, but when he saw the Chosen before his desk, he said he would clear out a few people to accommodate them. Colette shook her head, and looked at Lloyd for an interpretation.

"We'll just sleep on the floor in the lobby," Lloyd told the innkeeper. "Don't move anyone for our sake."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Raine said. "We can manage. We've slept in much worse places, thank you."

"Well, it wouldn't be right to charge you. I'll bring blankets and pillows down in a few minutes."

Genis collapsed by the door, rubbing his sore legs, and Raine sat down beside him. Sheena took Colette in search of some food, but Lloyd found he wasn't hungry. When no one was looking, he quietly exited the inn and walked down to the line of raggedy tents barely standing upright along the road. He saw a man that he recognized—the one that had first told him the truth about exsphere manufacture—and sat down beside him. He didn't look much better than he did at the ranch; too skinny, sickly, and exhausted, but Lloyd was relieved to find that he had survived at all.

"It's you," the man said, taking a moment to recognize Lloyd.

"How are things? How is everyone?" he asked.

"We're coping. There ain't enough food for everyone, but life out here is still a helluva lot better than at the ranch. But some of us have already forgotten what we've escaped from. 'At least we had enough to eat at the ranch,' they say. Ungrateful morons. Anyway, a few people were lucky enough to escape before they put an exsphere in them. They'll be fine, if they manage to find enough food. I heard there's a dwarf in Iselia that might be able to make some key crests for those lucky enough to have a chance of surviving the implant. Some of us are going to catch a boat there. But folks like me, well, frankly, we're screwed." He held up his hand. His exsphere had almost made its way completely out of his red and flaking skin. "I don't have long, but I'm glad that I didn't give the bastards the pleasure of killing me."

Lloyd nodded, looking at his own.

The man glanced at his hand. "Oh, boy. They got you good. It's just big enough that you can't remove it, just small enough to not kill you quickly. Maybe if you find a key crest for it you'll live for a while longer."

"How long?" Lloyd found himself asking.

"Oh, I dunno, a few years, maybe, if you're really lucky. A few months if you're not." The man looked at Lloyd's sullen face and decided to lift his spirits. "On the bright side, I heard that someone killed Kvar. One of the prisoners, even."

Lloyd glanced up. "That was me."

"What? Really? Right on!" he clasped his shoulder. "And now you're with the Chosen. Brother, you've been fighting the good fight. Keep it up."

The man's congratulation and optimism didn't completely satisfy Lloyd, however. He still had second thoughts about the Regeneration. He didn't want to finish it and condemn Tethe'alla, or condemn Colette. But he didn't want Sylvarant to decay, either. All he knew is that if he could, he would stop the Chosen from dying. He would save her, and he would find a way to save Sylvarant too. However, "if" was the pivotal part of that statement.

He stood and bid farewell to the man. He would've liked to help him, but the only way he knew how to was make sure the Regeneration succeeded and the Desians eliminated. His duty now was to the Chosen, whatever that meant. He wasn't so sure anymore. Before he could think himself into a rut, he returned to the inn, and found Colette with Sheena, pretending to eat while Sheena stuffed her face. He sat down beside them and helped Colette with her meal. She seemed grateful that she wasn't wasting her food, but Sheena kept giving him crap for being a vulture.

Sometime after dark Genis came downstairs with a book. "Is this the one that I gave you?" he asked Lloyd.

"Yeah. I lost it when my dad went missing." It was the text about the Kharlan War.

"You're really reading this?" Raine asked.

"Um. Yes," Lloyd answered, a little confused.

"But… this is for _children_!" she replied, with more than a hint of consternation.

"Well, yeah, Raine. Lloyd isn't that great of a reader," Genis offered helpfully.

Raine sighed. "I guess I have my work cut out for me."

"It's not that bad of a book. You should read it," Lloyd said defensively.

"I have, and it's not for your age."

"Whatever, Raine," Genis said. "It takes a lot for him to read at all."

Lloyd crossed his arms in a huff, and took the book back. So what if he wasn't that good at reading? He would be dead in a few months anyway, so what was the matter? Colette sat beside him and read the cover over his shoulder, winding her fingers through his. He didn't care if she knew he read way below his level. She wasn't judgmental like that.

Later in the night, they began to talk about how they would get to the tower. "Last time, I found a man who rented dragons," Lloyd offered.

"Is he still around?" Sheena asked.

"I think I saw him when I was wandering around town," Lloyd said. "He might not lend them to me, though. You'd better go by yourselves to ask him."

"Why not?" Genis asked.

"Well, I kind of... stole one of his dragons the last time I was here." Now that he thought of it, it was quite a long time ago. Maybe the man had forgotten him. He hoped so, or else he probably wouldn't rent a dragon to him. Maybe if he knew they were for the Regeneration, he'd give in, simply out of a moral obligation.

"Well, we'll have to contact him in the morning," Raine said, yawning. "It's pretty late."

They arranged the ratty blankets and hard pillows that the innkeeper had brought them into something that resembled a giant nest. Colette relocated her makeshift bed right next to Lloyd's and tucked herself in. Secretly, under the covers, she took his hand and turned it over, signaling she wanted a private conversation. They could write in one another's palms without anyone listening in—both of them had become quite used to this method of communication.

_Do you hate me?_ she wrote.

Lloyd was so astonished at the question he could barely write back. _NO! ! ! WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT_

_Because I failed all those people out there. I was supposed to save them._

Lloyd thought for a moment before furiously scribbling back in her palm. _I saw what those people went thru and believe me anythings better than what happened at the ranch just by letting them out you saved them_

_But_

She didn't have time to finish writing before Raine approached them, hovering a little too close to their private conversation.

"Lloyd. If I'm not interrupting—"

"You're not," Lloyd said, a little too quickly.

"I would like to have a moment with you."

Lloyd thought perhaps she was going to lecture him about the book on the Kharlan War. Maybe on his inability to multiply. Or add or subtract, for that matter. He figured he might as well endure the scolding and get back to Colette as soon as possible, so he followed Raine out into the cool night.

"Lloyd. I didn't want to say this in front of the others, because it will sound unimaginably heartless."

Lloyd gulped. "What?"

"I know you're going to die, but I was going to ask you if you could at least do it usefully."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to let me document your condition. Allow me to examine your hand, allow me to take an account of the exsphere's progress. Let me write down everything I observe."

"Why?"

"I know it will be hard for you, but I think… perhaps, if we learn about the evolution of your condition, I could compile something of a medical text. Since the Boltzmann book doesn't cover this sort of thing, and any other related texts are in the hands of the Desians, this could be useful for helping others who have the same ailment. Those for whom it's not too late."

Lloyd looked out across the expanse of bare mountains, taking in the cool air. "All right. Just… don't cut my hand off or anything." Come to think of it, that might be the only way to separate himself from that evil little stone. He was sure if anyone could do it in a sanitary manner, it would be Raine.

"I won't, Lloyd. Thank you. I'm sure many others will thank you too, if what we learn can help them." She briefly touched his shoulder, then made her way toward the door.

"Raine," he said, and she turned. "Do you still think I'm dangerous?"

She half-smiled. "Yes. I do. But as far as I can tell, you're on my side. On my side is where I want the danger to be."

* * *

The next day, Lloyd said a tearful goodbye to Noishe.

"I don't know if I'm gonna come back, boy," he told the dog, patting his ear. "I asked the innkeeper to take care of you. He said that he would. Don't worry, I've left him enough money to feed you. And you can guard the refugees, in case the Desians come here looking for them."

Noishe whined, hesitant to take on so much responsibility.

"If I don't come back, just know…" Lloyd didn't know what to say, or what Noishe could understand. "Just remember to be a good dog. You're always a good dog." Colette lay her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that the Noishe would be all right. He squeezed her hand, and they made their way up to the highest hill in Hima.

The dragon man was there, as usual, trying to scam those who could afford it into a ride.

"You!" he shouted when Lloyd showed up.

"Me." Lloyd regretted that he had not hidden his face when he decided to rob the guy.

"Get outta here! I'm not renting to you. You have some pretty hefty balls if you think you can just waltz back up here and demand—"

"Do you know whom you're addressing?" Raine stepped between him and Lloyd. "We are the guardians of the Chosen of Regeneration."

"What? Um..."

"What would the people of Sylvarant say when they find out that you were the reason the Chosen couldn't make it to the Tower?"

"Well, I…"

"Imagine how it would feel if you bore sole responsibility for the failure of the Regeneration. If the entire world was kept in abject decline because of _you_."

"Um... if she's the Chosen…" He couldn't stand up to Raine's indignation, and begrudgingly agreed to let them ride for free. They loaded up, preparing to go to the Tower.

Lloyd gripped Colette's arm. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded and they shot up into the sky. The rush of cool air seemed to wake Lloyd to this situation. He really had no idea what would happen, and whatever did, he was sure he was unprepared for it. He had spent his whole life being unprepared for things, though. The abduction of his father, his trip to the other world, his escapes, encounters, pains and joys. He hadn't been prepared for any of them. So if it came to it, he would improvise—he had handled everything so far, he could handle the future.

Halfway to the tower he began to hope that Yggdrasill was there. He would slice up the brute and get his dad back, then they could go about figuring a way to save Colette, and by extension, both worlds. He knew his father knew more than he let on; as soon as he found him, he would get him to tell the truth about everything… the two worlds, the Chosen, and his mother. He grit his teeth against the cold wind and watched the Tower approach.

It was as quiet as it had been when his father had been kidnapped. Last time he had been here, Kratos had left the door open, presumably in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. Now, the door only opened when Colette approached it. Lloyd wondered how his dad had managed to get inside, but he knew now wasn't the time to think about things like that. Instead, he would have to be ready to protect Colette.

He drew his sword as they made their way across the glass catwalk to the altar. There was no sign of his father—no sign of anyone, for that matter. Colette approached the altar, then looked behind her as if waiting for approval. Raine nodded to her, so she knelt and began to pray.

Something cold, electric, began to form in Lloyd's stomach. He couldn't tell if it was a feeling of dread, or excitement, or simply the sort of uncanny magic that seemed to surround the rituals of the Chosen. He gripped the hilt of his sword, suddenly nervous. He looked around him for any sign of danger, but all was silent.

A burst of light momentarily blinded him, and there was the angel, Remiel, the one who had spoken to the Chosen at the last seal. There was something off about him, something Lloyd had previously failed to put his thumb on. He didn't like the smirk on the angel's face, his pomp and smugness.

When the angel spoke, it was in words that Lloyd could understand. "You've done well to come this far, Chosen. Now, to complete the ritual of Regeneration, you must make the last sacrifice: your heart and memories."

At that moment, Lloyd knew everything up to this point had been a dream. A delusion, a comforting fantasy. Suddenly he was paralyzed with the overwhelming comprehension that _this_ was the reality of the Regeneration, and he was responsible for it. He had agreed to it. This is what he had set out to do. What they had all set out to do, each in his or her own way. The assassins, the guardians, all of them—their only purpose remained the same: to kill Colette.

"No way in hell!" Lloyd found himself yelling. Colette turned, glancing at him sadly. She flashed him a weak smile and turned back to the angel. Lloyd stepped forward to stop her, but felt a hand grab his sleeve.

"I thought I told you," Raine whispered in his ear, "not to get too close. You knew this was coming. You know that becoming an angel means dying."

Lloyd did. And he decided he wasn't going to follow through with it. If Colette had to die to regenerate the world, then damn the world. He wouldn't let her. He pushed away from Raine and sprang toward Colette, one arm outstretched, the other holding his sword at the ready, in case the angel tried to stop him.

"It's too late," the angel laughed as Lloyd jumped onto the altar and grabbed Colette, spinning her around.

"Colette! Can you hear me?" he screamed, shaking her. Her eyes were empty, her body limp, her Cruxis Crystal glowing. And then he knew that just like his exsphere was sucking the life out of his body, the crystal had sucked the soul out of hers. "Take this damn thing off!" He made a grab for it, but in a flash of feathers and light, suddenly Remiel was between him and Colette.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the angel threatened.

The fear and anger that had built up in Lloyd this whole journey suddenly released into his blood. That too familiar darkness coursed through him, starting in his left hand and spreading to every vein. That bastard wasn't going to take Colette away from him. Lloyd had failed too many times, he wasn't going to fail now. So he let the anger swallow him, let it give him strength, and swiped at the angel's chest. When the sword made contact, it was not some unearthly or angelic experience—the blade met only flesh, vulnerable and all too human.

Lloyd didn't know what the inside of an angel was made of, but he was about to find out.

Remiel retreated, raising his arms and chanting a spell. Lloyd swung forward, again and again, both exspheres searing his blood with power. Sheena was there beside him, casting seals and swinging cards. The angel, caught off guard, flew back and swung his arms, striking the floor before him with bursts of white-hot light. Lloyd heard Genis bellow a spell and the angel burst into flames, thrashing and screaming. Wings, clothes, hair, all burned up in the inferno. Lloyd jumped up to him, sword tip outthrust, and pierced him through the neck. Lloyd didn't notice the flames—every part of him, his blood, lungs, heart, muscles, they were all already burning. When he pulled his sword from the angel and jumped back down to the floor, he found he was miraculously unharmed. Without missing a beat, he leapt over Remiel's motionless, bleeding body, and ran to Colette, still powered on by that rage that had destroyed the angel.

Before he could even get to her, a white pillar of light blinded him. He shielded his eyes, squinting.

And there he was. The man who had stolen his father, who had threatened to choke the life out of Lloyd. He turned, smiling coldly, ethereal and bright. Lloyd gripped his sword and dashed toward him.

"_You_! What have you done with him?" When Lloyd thrust out at him, he stepped aside, looking bored.

"Ah, the pesky offspring. If you must know, he's alive and well. Maybe not so well." Yggdrasill laughed, and Lloyd swung at him again. He sprouted wings like petals and flew upward, just out of reach. "He wouldn't appreciate it if I killed you outright," he said. "But the thought is tempting." He raised his hand, light gathering in his palm. "I'm sure he'd rather have me punish you for going astray."

Lloyd jumped backwards, trying to dodge, but the light hit him square in the chest. He went blind, his lungs froze, his head felt like it was being ripped apart. All was white-hot pain, worse than Kvar's lightning, worse than the most intense tremors of his exspheres, worse than the helpless ache of seeing his father stabbed in front of him.

He fell to the ground, and blackness swallowed him whole.


	15. The Other Side

"You failed."

It took momentous energy just to crack his eyes open. His head burned, he felt heavy, like every muscle was made of stone. "What…" he croaked.

"You failed. You both did. I'm disappointed."

Lloyd sat up, squinting, to find himself in a room so tacky he could swear that he'd seen something like it in a museum once. He felt like he was being swallowed by pastels... or was it still a dream? He opened his eyes all the way, yawning himself awake. Yes, he'd been here before... or somewhere just like it. No doubt about it, this is where interior decorating came to die.

And there was Yuan's face, topping everything off. The half-elf was hovering over him, wearing a frustrated frown. Oh, shit, he should probably ditch thinking about the decorating and make up some excuse as to why he'd gone and kissed the target he was supposed to kill. Some assassin he was.

"I didn't... um... did you save me?" Lloyd asked him, trying to remember what had happened. There was a bright light, and then...

"Not me. My right hand man, Botta. The next time you see him, you'd better get on your knees and thank him." Yuan stood up, and Lloyd blinked, trying to get control of himself. Everything was so bright, and he was sore up to his eyelids. Gods, he could barely move. "You are by far the worst henchman I've ever had," Yuan told him. "You get orders to kill the Chosen, and what do you do? Try to complete the Regeneration. We barely got there in time to stop it. We lost a lot of good people in this whole mess."

Lloyd pushed himself up onto his elbows, every bone creaking. "I... What even happened?"

Yuan glanced over his shoulder at him. "I suppose I should first thank you for disposing of Remiel for us. But that's about as helpful as you got. Now you've gone and pissed off Cruxis, and they'll be riding the Renegades' collective tail for saving you."

Cruxis... what the hell? The name seemed familiar, but Lloyd couldn't think properly right now. Not at least until he was fully awake. "Is... Yggdrasill..."

"He runs Cruxis. Conceived the Regeneration rituals as a way to resurrect Martel. He's the one that took your father. And I'm the one who's trying to stop him, so pull yourself together and help me already."

This information was a little much for Lloyd's tired brain, but he managed to throw off the covers and get both feet on the floor. "Where is she?" he asked Yuan. "The Chosen?"

"She's in the next room."

"How is she?"

"Well, that depends on your outlook," Yuan said, eyebrow raised. "I'd say she's safer now than she's ever been, being in self-preservation mode and all. However, she does seem to have lost her soul."

"No…" Lloyd miraculously forced himself to get up, limping on his sore legs to the door. Yuan sighed and followed him.

Colette was in the next room, standing in the corner, staring. The others kept a fair distance away from her, as if she were a bomb waiting to go off. As Lloyd approached her, Raine issued a warning: "I wouldn't touch her if I were you. She's extremely dangerous in her present state."

Lloyd didn't know what she meant and didn't care, all he knew is that he had to help her. He walked up to her and opened his arms, while the others flinched, covering their faces. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Contrary to his companions' expectations, the Chosen didn't explode. She didn't do anything. She just stood, mindless and pale.

Yuan crossed his arms. "Since the Regeneration is not exactly completed, we'll be keeping the Chosen in custody until such time as we can neutralize her."

"Wait," Genis said. "Neutralize?"

"Like hell you will!" Lloyd cried, reaching for his sword. His hand grasped air, and he looked down to see it gone. He swore under his breath and grabbed Colette's hand instead. She didn't retaliate, but let him drag her across the room and past Yuan, who backed up and let them pass. Raine, Sheena and Genis looked at one another before following him at a distance. It seemed to Lloyd they were all afraid of what the Chosen would do. He knew in his heart that she wouldn't hurt them if she could help it. The only question was if she could help it.

"Where do you think you're going, Lloyd?" Yuan called after them. "You're not thinking about stealing the Chosen, are you?"

"Yeah, I am," Lloyd called back, speeding up. He hoped that if he couldn't outrun Yuan, he could at least keep him at a distance by threatening him with Colette. He seemed genuinely terrified of her in this state.

After a few minutes of this pointless chase, his companions caught up to him. "Lloyd, seriously. What are you doing?" Genis asked.

"Getting out of here, what does it look like?" he said.

Sheena smiled. "Not sticking around for our punishment, huh? I don't blame you. Well, what the hell. Ex-assassins on the run has a nice ring to it. They'll tell stories about us." She turned a corner and took the lead. "This is the way to the Rheiard bay. Better follow me if you want out."

"Don't you ever want to see your father again?" Yuan said, still keeping his distance.

"You don't have him, so you can't give him back to me," Lloyd answered, still clutching Colette.

"Lloyd, listen to me. You must leave the Chosen with us. She's extremely dangerous."

"No way."

"I don't think you have any idea what you're doing."

Lloyd grimaced. Yuan was absolutely right. But he _never_ had any idea what he was doing, and he had survived so far, albeit barely. All he knew is that he wasn't going to leave Colette with these people, especially if they considered her a threat. Lloyd knew what powerful people did to threats, and Yuan seemed powerful enough. He wasn't going to let Colette turn into a nipped bud, a number on a casualty list.

He only bit his lip and kept running after Sheena, trying to lose Yuan in the maze of halls. When they reached the landing bay, there were no guards waiting for them. Lloyd began to wonder if Yuan planned for them to escape, just to see what would happen. That man was truly an odd duck.

"Hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry," Sheena chanted, fiddling with the launch computer. They didn't even wait for the far door to fully open before they booted up the machines. Lloyd placed Colette in the seat in front of him, making sure she couldn't fall off, and kissed the back of her unmoving head before sputtering off into the sky.

* * *

"Shall I retrieve them, sir?" Botta asked, somewhat irked.

"No. I don't want to lose any more men because of this fiasco. Not because Lloyd's turning into his father."

"Sir?"

"An obdurate, well-intentioned thorn in my side. Too single-minded to listen to reason. I have a long list of four thousand years of complaints, but I won't bore you."

"Respectfully, sir, I'm quite used to you boring me."

Yuan snorted. "Just have our friend keep an eye on them. Keep your distance, but if there's any sign of Mithos, don't hesitate to do what you need to. Be sure to inform me of any developments."

Botta bowed, and made his way the door of the Rheiard bay. "If I may be so bold, I think you're going too easy on him, sir. If I failed you like he has I'd expect to be put between a wall and a firing squad. Rightfully so. Please assure me you're not just sentimental—"

"You're dismissed, Botta." He nodded and left Yuan alone in the bay, with only the buzzing of the lights to keep him company. Perhaps he had not towed the line enough with Botta, letting him talk to him like that. But he needed the man, and he needed him now more than ever. He needed his fearlessness, his booming voice, his strong persona, his ability to slip into commanding roles like into a new coat. Yuan had a nagging, self-accusatory feeling that if Botta were in charge Mithos would've been dead long ago. Maybe it was true, maybe all the Renegades' failings were a result of soft leadership. Perhaps Yuan should get harder, more cruel, like Mithos. He really should use the firing squad more often. Come to think of it, he should actually bother to _arrange_ a firing squad. But first he would have to read a few treatises on the logistics and ethics of intra-military tribunals, fair trials, humane execution methods...

* * *

Kratos did nothing. He did not eat or drink, he barely breathed. For hours on end, he could only retreat into himself to escape the pain. His eyelids flickered, but he was not asleep—sleep was too merciful. Instead he hung suspended in the soporific haze between consciousness and dream, trying to lose himself.

He was lying with Anna, on a rented bed in some back-alley hotel in Palmacosta, stroking her hair. She snored slightly, and he decided he might go get her some breakfast. He stood up, but her hand shot out and grabbed his before he could leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" she said, pulling him back down on the bed. She squeezed his hand before setting it on her pregnant belly. She was enormous, and all the more beautiful for it. He leaned down, resting his head against her stretched skin, and could hear a second, tiny heartbeat thump along with hers. He grinned broadly.

"I know it's a boy," Anna said.

"I don't think so." Kratos would've preferred a daughter. After all those years of Mithos, those terrible, mindless, war-torn years, he was finished with wayward sons.

"You think you know better than the person who actually has the baby inside her?"

"Humph."

"Come here, you gloomy bastard." She pulled him to her and kissed his forehead. "You don't know anything."

"Perhaps not." He lay there in her arms, trying to think ahead to the future. How on earth would they manage to support a baby, when they could barely feed themselves? He might have to take some dangerous jobs if he wanted to make enough to support all of them.

"I was thinking of some names. Thomas, George—I had a brother named George who died in a tornado outside Asgard. Or Mithos."

"Gods, anything but Mithos," Kratos said, blood draining from his face. That would be the cruelest joke she could play on him—naming the child Mithos. "How about Annabel?"

"That's not a boy's name."

"Well, you never know."

"I'll bet you it's a boy."

Oh, no. Anna was a sucker for bets. "How much?" he asked.

"A hundred thousand gald. You can build me a house with that. We can finally settle down."

"Anna, you know we can't."

"I'm just kidding, you grump. This will be the most well-traveled baby on the planet. He'll know every language, all the cities of Sylvarant, he'll have a girlfriend in every port."

"He sounds like he'll turn out like you." Headstrong and kindhearted, perhaps a little too vulgar, and with no room for silence. Kratos would love to have a child like Anna—there would never be a dull moment. He leaned over and kissed her nose.

"I was thinking Lloyd," she said.

"For a name?"

"Yeah."

"That's an awful name."

"Not nearly as bad as Kratos. Seriously, who named you, you old badger?"

Kratos laughed. "It was a different time then, I guess. Boy's names ending in -os were all the rage, it seemed. I knew three different Enoses growing up. Four Porthoses, two Deimoses, and so many Xenoses I couldn't keep track of them all." And one Mithos. One very important Mithos.

"Gods, you kids back then. No, Lloyd is a perfectly fine name compared to all those."

"I guess it is."

As he lay there, he thought of all the names of his friends, companions, fellow soldiers of the Great Kharlan War. Zephiros, Vymos, Enos the Bloody, even a woman named Wilmos, whose parents insisted she be named after her grandfather. All dead now, thousands of years gone. They were scattered across the world in the form of soil, leaves, rivers and wind. He wondered if he would see them after he died, when he stepped back into the waters from which they had all come.

His thoughts were interrupted when a strangely familiar voice wafted in through the inn's window. It spoke nonsense, it made him afraid. "Stay here," he told Anna, and went to peer out the glass.

It was Yuan. And Kratos was not in Palmacosta. He was strung up, hands tied, body broken. Tubes fed into his arms, mana ducts into his back. Mithos had walked him through the functions and processes of the machine to which he was now connected, but Kratos had a hard time paying attention to the details. He had a hard time paying attention to anything these days…

"What…" he croaked.

"I said, your son has a thieving problem," Yuan sighed, shaking his head. "Kvar's henchmen are complaining that he's stolen the Angelus exsphere, and now he's taken some of my Rheiards. Don't tell me you've taught him all that."

"No…" Kratos couldn't think. Where was Lloyd? And where was Anna? She was just here a moment ago, beside him, smiling…

"He left Flamberge with me. Accidentally, of course. When he comes back, and he will soon, I'll give it back to him."

Flamberge? He hadn't seen that blade for years. That was the sword he had used in the War. How did Yuan get it? And where was he? Where was Lloyd?

"We're running out of time, Kratos. The Chosen's in a fit state to be Martel's vessel, Mithos is hammering down on the Renegades—I'm fairly sure he knows about me now. I don't know why he hasn't tried to kill me yet. This'll probably be the last time I'll be able to come here."

"Where's… Lloyd? Who is…"

"Gods, Kratos, he's truly made a mess of you. At this point I can only wish you the best of luck and leave you in peace. Please try to die quickly so the seal can break. Otherwise, I'll be back here in a while, when I come to take down Mithos. If you're not dead by then, I guess I'll have to do it myself. Goodbye for now, old friend."

Kratos barely heard Yuan walk away, footsteps echoing through the empty halls of Derris-Kharlan. With the sinister stranger gone, Kratos retreated from the window and returned to the silent hotel room.

"Who was that?" Anna asked.

"No one," he answered. He lay down beside her, wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck.

.

The Rheiards, not fully powered before takeoff, crash-landed somewhere near Meltokio. No one was hurt, but they were all somewhat taken aback. "Well, that was one of the stupidest things I've ever done," Sheena couldn't help smiling, face covered in the dust stirred up by their less than perfect landing.

"We're all okay, though," Lloyd said, helping Colette off the vehicle.

"Yeah, well, now we have broken Rheiards, a sick Chosen, and I don't think the Renegades will just let us take their stuff. We should probably hide these. Or at least move them. We'll have to go to Meltokio for some help with that."

It only took them a few hours to make their way to the capital. When they got to the city, Genis nearly fainted with excitement. "Look at it, Raine! It's so _big_! I've never seen anything like this!" He started to run down the street, lost in his frenzied desire to explore.

"Genis, don't wander!" Raine chased after him, glancing over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at the inn!"

"Which one?" Lloyd yelled after her.

"There's more than one? I'll come find you!" She disappeared around the corner, chasing Genis. Lloyd had a feeling she was just as excited to explore the city as her little brother. She would most definitely make her way to the Research Institute soon enough, and probably never reappear from its extensive library. Lloyd sighed, took Colette's hand, and led her toward the inn where he had stayed last time.

"I have to go to the Institute to make my report," Sheena said. "If Yuan hasn't already told them of my failure. But I'll explain the situation—the Regeneration, the angels, that freaky bastard Yggdrasill. I'm sure they'll have some reconsiderations."

"All right, I'll meet you at the inn."

"Take care of Colette."

Lloyd was sure she could take care of herself, now that she was apparently a ticking time bomb. "I will."

He led her to the creaking old hotel, checked into two separate rooms, and footed the bill. He didn't mind—Sheena had paid for everything when they were after the Chosen. He led Colette to the bar and motioned for her to sit. She did, expressionless, empty. He frowned.

"Mead, please," he told the man behind the counter, then looked at Colette. "Two, please."

"That's a quiet girlfriend you have there, sonny," he answered, chuckling.

"She's feeling a little under the weather. A cold."

"Does she want hers heated? We have it spicy, too. Clears your nostrils right up."

"Sure," Lloyd said, unsure. He turned and surveyed the bar. It was mostly empty, just a couple of girls looking like they might be waiting for a friend. He turned back around when his drinks were brought. He scooted one in front of Colette to see if she'd be interested in it. He asked her if she wanted to drink: no answer. He commanded her to, and she reached out a white hand and gripped the mug, but didn't bring it to her lips. Bless her, she looked like she was trying so hard, struggling in that expressionless body, a body so unlike her own.

He sat in silence, drinking, thinking hard about Yggdrasill. What the hell did that guy have to gain by doing this to Colette? And what was that thing Yuan said about Martel? And what about his dad—

"Hey little lady, is this guy boring you?"

Lloyd spun around, sure that he'd heard that voice before, and saw Tethe'alla's Chosen leering at Colette, crouched over the bar like some sort of half-drunk panther.

"I bet I could give you a better time," he said, apparently without noticing Lloyd.

"You!" Lloyd said.

"Me?" Zelos replied, slipping an arm around Colette.

"Wait, don't do that!"

"What, you're scared she's gonna—" A swift elbow to the throat shut him up momentarily, but unfortunately not for good. "Whoa, girl, you've got…" He coughed obtrusively. "Some muscles on you." He looked at Lloyd and scrunched up his face. "Hey, do I know you?" he asked.

"Yeah. We um… got into a fight a while ago."

"Did we? Hey, you're that cretin who broke my nose!"

"I didn't break your nose. Look at it, it's perfect!" Zelos' nose looked like it had never seen a fist in its life.

"Thank you!" Zelos growled, still nettled. "I recommend Dr. Sals. Although she won't be able to do much for your ugly mug."

"What the hell are you talking about, weirdo?"

"Oh, don't have cosmetic surgeons where you're from, little hick?"

Lloyd stood up.

"Oh-ho, you wanna start something?" Zelos seemed pleased. "You wanna tussle, huh?"

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at him while Colette watched passively. "Maybe."

"Hey Lloyd!" Sheena's voice tore their glares apart. She strode up to them and practically wedged herself between them. "Zelos. Fancy meeting you here."

"Sheena, my darling, how are things?" Zelos turned from belligerent to flirty like a light.

"They were fine until you decided to pick a fight with my friend."

"He's your friend? What kind of friend? You're not off picking up men without telling me, are you?'"

"Like you need to know anything about it. What are you doing around here?"

"Oh, just the usual. Having fun. Living life. But you know, I've heard some disturbing news." He got quiet all of a sudden. "I heard you didn't even kill the Chosen over on the other side."

Sheena went pale. "H-how could you know that? I filed my report five minutes ago."

Zelos shrugged. "A Chosen knows another Chosen when he sees one." He nodded at Colette. "She doesn't look too good, though. You did this to her?"

Sheena grit her teeth. "Sort of. I helped. We all did."

"So this is what Regeneration looks like," he said, eyeing Colette's Cruxis Crystal and her empty, wan face. "Better her than me I guess…"

"What did you say?" Sheena asked.

"What? Nothing, beauty, nothing. How about you sit down with me and your friend…" Zelos nudged Lloyd.

"Lloyd."

"Your friend Lloyd, and have a drink with us?"

"I don't see why not. Someone has to keep you two from starting a brawl. We can wait for those wonder siblings to get bored of the big city."

It took a few hours for Raine and Genis to get back. By then, the three of them were sufficiently drunk to not mind the wait, and not mind the mild scolding they all received from Raine upon her return for getting drunk at all. The five of them, plus Zelos for some reason ("Always willing to help a beautiful girl; besides, it's not like I have anything better to do," was his excuse), sat around a table in the back of the bar, talking quietly. Colette just stood in the corner, staring creepily at nothing.

"Firstly, we need to figure out how to get Colette back to normal, if possible," Raine said. "And also… to get Lloyd a key crest that fits his exsphere."

"The hell are you doing wandering around without a key crest, stupid?" Zelos laughed. The others stared at him and his smile disappeared. "What's with those looks, guys? I guess there's something I don't know?"

They explained the exsphere manufacturing process to him. It was a slapdash, heavily abridged version, but by the end of it Zelos had turned pale. "Hell. That is one huge bummer." His pensive dismay only lasted a few seconds, however. "Well, Lloyd, if you need a fancy key crest, I got you there, my man. I'll drag you out on the greatest shopping spree the world has ever known."

"Zelos, he only needs one thing," Sheena put in.

"Yeah, well, look at his clothes, Sheena. It's embarrassing to be seen with someone so hideously underdressed. No offense, bud."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "None taken."

"Can we just buy Colette a key crest too?" Genis asked.

"We might be able to," Zelos said. "But Cruxis Crystals are a little different than exspheres. Crests for those have to be specially made, usually. But I've heard of a dwarf that lives near Ozette. He might be able to make one for her. There's a girl who brings the sacred wood every day to the palace—she'll be able to guide us through the boonies. But that's later. Tomorrow you're coming with me, bud!" He wrapped his arm around Lloyd's neck and rubbed his head furiously. Lloyd sighed, resigned to his fate.

* * *

Kvar stood over him, smiling. Lloyd couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He barely lifted his head, and saw Flamberge protruding from his chest. Blood trickled from his wound and slid down his side, pooling on the floor below him. Kvar, delighted with the whole situation, grabbed the hilt of the sword and jiggled it playfully.

Pain shot from Lloyd's chest to his extremities. He opened his mouth and screamed, trying to banish the agony coursing through every muscle. Kvar knelt down beside him and leaned on his chest, careful to avoid Flamberge's sharp blade, and mumbled something Lloyd couldn't hear over his own moaning. Kvar reached out a hand and covered Lloyd's mouth, keeping the screams inside. No way would he allow himself to be drowned out by the cries of an inferior being—only Kvar's voice was allowed here, and Lloyd knew it in his gut. He leaned in, reaching for Lloyd's left hand, commanding him to give up and be still. Lloyd, of course, did his best to struggle against Kvar's grip, but the sword kept him in place, and the pain was too much. Kvar lifted Lloyd's left hand, examining it and smiling. He squeezed it tight, leaned in, and began to speak.

He told Lloyd everything. Everything he had done to his mother, everything he was going to do to him. Exhaustive outlines of back-breaking labor, specific methods of torture, the proper procedure to remove the exsphere once it was done sapping his life, all in excruciating detail. Kvar walked him through all the methodic particulars of effectively skinning a human being, what tools can be used for what agonizing purposes, how to cheaply and reliably dispose of hundreds of corpses en bloc. With each story, Lloyd shook more and more, screaming soundlessly, as his exsphere shot agony into his veins. Kvar just leaned on his chest, smiling, and continued speech after speech, story after story. After a while, he seemed to decide impersonal logistics of human ranching weren't enough, so he recounted Lloyd's mother's internment, her trip to the scalding showers, the implant of her exsphere, the beatings, the work, the operations, the experiments and the emotional manipulation. With each word Lloyd's exsphere throbbed more and more.

The Desian seemed to enjoy every minute of it, watching the exsphere carefully, as if expecting it to grow. He kept poking at it, prodding at it, smiling, telling Lloyd all about the things he had done to her. After one particularly disturbing account of torture that could've possibly led to his conception, Lloyd couldn't take it anymore. He shut his eyes and turned his head away, trying to sink through the floor. Let me die, he begged, let me please die.

"Lloyd." When he looked back, Kvar was gone, and there was his father, bloodstained and desperate, clawing at him, calling his name over, and over. "Lloyd, Lloyd, Lloyd!" Stop, he cried, but as usual, no sound came out.

"Lloyd! Wake up, dammit!" He gasped awake, his arm on fire. Genis stood over him, shaking him, panting and full of worry. "You were screaming and screaming."

Lloyd looked down at his arm and his heart almost stopped. Black, throbbing veins crawled their way up his wrist from his exsphere, between greenish, peeling patches of skin. Lloyd swore, rubbing his arm, trying to get the sickness to go back into the little stone.

"Oh crap, stay here, I'll get Raine" Genis said. And then he was gone, out the door and down the hall, leaving Lloyd alone with that terrible evil crawling up his arm. He struggled, trying to scratch the black skin away, trying to get the pain to stop, but nothing seemed to be working that well. After far too long, Raine burst through the door and hurried to Lloyd's bedside. By that time, Lloyd thought he had got the spread of the strange disease under control, but his arm still throbbed, sending tremors of pain through him.

"Are you all right?" Raine asked him, voice shaking a little. "Let me look at that."

Reluctantly, Lloyd showed her his exsphere and the green, swollen skin around it. Raine traced the black veins, and wherever her fingers touched him, a stinging pain followed. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Well, duh," he answered, gritting his teeth.

"Is the pain receding?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Tell me all about it. What triggered it. How it feels and where it hurts." Lloyd did. For some reason, talking about it seemed to lessen the pain. He described all the sensations, physical and mental, that accompanied the activity of the little rock. He purposefully left out the content of his nightmare, telling her only as much as he dared. "It's a good thing you're going out to get a key crest tomorrow," she said when he finished. "You need one, badly. I can give you something for the pain, and something to help you sleep, but I'm afraid that's all I can do for now."

"I think I'm okay."

"Nonsense. I'll be back in a few minutes with a something for you. Tell me if anything changes. I will be out getting medical supplies while you're looking for a key crest. Hopefully we can make this whole thing a little less painful for you." Raine left in a hurry, leaving the door open behind her. Lloyd hoped he hadn't woken anyone else up with his obnoxious yelling.

Genis looked at him, rings under his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? It took forever to wake you up."

Lloyd didn't bother to answer him; instead he pointed to a shadow behind him. "Is that... Colette?" he asked.

Genis turned. "Oh, yes. She wanders. Raine doesn't want her to get into any trouble so she practically locked her up tonight. Come on, Colette. Come on back to your room." He reached out to her a little nervously, still not daring to touch her.

"It's all right," Lloyd said. "If she wants to stay here she can. It... helps, you know. With the dreams."

"Well. Okay." Genis moved out of Colette's way and she walked to the center of the room, where she stood and stared. She looked like a doll, lifeless and more than a little creepy. Lloyd could see Genis shiver in the dim moonlight. "If you want her here... I'll leave her. Raine will be back soon. You can talk with her about it."

Lloyd watched him go, then turned his eyes to Colette. He examined her soulless eyes, pale skin, her expressionless face. Even the way she carried herself was different. Wrong, even. It seemed that this body was only the bare outline of what had once been Colette, the structural leftovers, like metal crossbeams of a burnt building. He wondered if she was still in there somewhere, or if she was long gone. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

* * *

Shopping with Zelos proved to be exactly what he expected. The Chosen dragged him down the gaudiest, most ostentatious streets, practically slamming him up against windows, commanding him to look at that shirt, look at that key crest, check out that rack on that mannequin, wasn't he hungry he should probably stop and get a beer or something…

Lloyd simply followed Zelos, passive. For a while he thought they were being followed by a stranger, but the stranger turned out to be Zelos' butler, who was tasked with carrying all the useless crap they were buying.

Zelos picked out a few key crests, a new pair of pants, some stunning cufflinks, and tossed them all into the servant's arms.

"Who is this for, my lord?" he asked.

"For my bud!" Zelos answered before throwing some more clothes into his trembling arms.

Lloyd offered to help the butler carry the enormous pile of loot, but he simply shook his head. "It's not your job, Sir Bud."

"It's Lloyd, actually."

"Of course, Sir Bud."

Lloyd gave up and allowed himself to get dragged from shop to bar, from bar to other bar, and back to shop for an entire day. Zelos bought him clothes, hats, jewelry, key crests, a new sword, pretty much anything that caught his eye. As the sun set, Zelos and Lloyd stopped at the end of the shopping district to sort through their booty.

"This one is hideous, I can't believe I bought this," Zelos said, and threw a key crest onto the street. It pained Lloyd to see that expensive of an item get tossed to the wind. "These too, they have to go." Cufflinks flew onto the cobblestone.

"Why are you throwing all that stuff away? You paid for it," Lloyd said.

"Oh, Lloyd, how little you know. I'm the Chosen, bud. I'm filthy rich. Also, I like doing charity work." He tossed a gold pocket watch to a pair of dirt-coated street kids, who immediately began fighting over it. "Look at them go," Zelos laughed.

Lloyd felt that it was somehow wrong, hauling all this expensive stuff back to the inn. He wasn't looking forward to Zelos playing dress-up with him, but when he emerged from his room in an outfit Zelos had picked for him, he couldn't deny he was impressed with himself.

"All right, now we can go out!" Zelos cried joyfully.

"For what?" Sheena asked. She had been lurking in the background, arms crossed, for Goddess knows how long.

"For some booze, gambling and loose women, of course," Zelos said. "Oh, yes, and this. I completely forgot." Zelos produced three key crests he had bought that day. They were all gold, fashioned in shapes that were all the rage that season. Leave it to Zelos to put style first. "I picked out all the ones that looked like they would fit your exsphere. Which one do you like?" he asked.

"Um. This one?" Lloyd picked up the middle one.

"Good choice. Put it on so we can go party."

Lloyd fiddled with his exsphere for a moment before snapping the key crest under it. A sharp pain zipped through his arm, then abated. He felt the exsphere's power diminish, and his hand almost felt normal again. Perhaps this really could buy him some time, if he was lucky. Knowing his luck, though...

"All right, looks good!" Zelos said, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Now, it's off to the pub!"

"Which one?" Lloyd asked.

"All of them!"


	16. Forests

Kratos didn't know why he was so sore. He must've been working too hard recently, or perhaps he had managed to injure himself. He cursed himself for getting into this painful state. Especially at a time like this, when strength was needed, when Anna was still recovering from the biggest ordeal of her life. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her somehow, for being so weak at such an important time. He knelt beside her as she cradled the fat, red-faced lump that was their baby. It gurgled and cried, stubby and barely human. "A boy. I guess I win the bet," Anna said quietly, smiling.

"I guess you do."

"Here. Hold him." She was so weak she could barely lift little Lloyd into his arms.

He took the tiny thing, amazed and somehow terrified. Kratos, who had survived the Great Kharlan War and every battle, every massacre, every disaster since, who had bested four thousand years of opponents and built the future on a mountain of their corpses, the warrior who had literally ripped the world in half and remolded it, was suddenly paralyzed by an infant. "How do I hold him?" he asked, trying to make sure he didn't break the little creature in half. You'd think after a couple thousand years, he'd have figured everything out by now, but his hands were so used to destroying, to killing. It was strange for him to be holding this fragile little thing, especially something that he _made_. Well, Anna did most of the work, but he had certainly helped.

"You're doing fine. Just don't drop him," Anna laughed. "Or he'll be funny in the head like you."

Kratos knew he was going to drop the baby. He knew he was going to break it, to kill it somehow. "Oh, gods, Anna, I can't. Here, you take him."

"Ha! Look at you, Kratos! Already the overprotective father." Even in her post-birth haze of exhaustion, she could still find some cheer in the situation, but she refused to take the child back. "Get used to holding him. I don't think I'm ever going to touch him again, after what he did to my poor nether regions."

"Don't say that," Kratos told her, but he knew she would be a great mother. She liked to joke around, but she was the kind of woman who would sing to her giant belly every night in the hopes that the child would come out healthier and more musically inclined. Kratos was not sure if it would work, but he humored her, mostly because he loved her voice and wanted her to sing more often. He knew that there was plenty of motherly humming in the future, and he looked forward to it, even to that one love song he couldn't stand. Rest Easy, or whatever it was. Gods, it was corny.

He held the baby close to him and closed his eyes, listening for its heartbeat, as he had done during the months of gestation. Curiously, no sound came to his ears, so he leaned in closer, until his ear was right at the infant's chest. He knew the baby had a strong heart, so why couldn't he hear it now? He frowned, listening desperately, but heard only silence. He started to panic. "Anna, he's not—" When he looked up, Anna was gone. He glanced down at his hands and his baby was gone too. Everything, gone. Only he was left. He and that ever-expanding darkness, the darkness he could not fight against, enveloping and swallowing him whole.

"Kratos." The voice drifted into his hearing like a soft wind, kind and gentle. "Kratos..."

Kratos lifted his eyes and saw a boy, thin and elegant, in front of him. He was floating, he was made of light, arms open. Kratos couldn't see his face; it was obscured by the hazy illumination of his bright skin.

"Lloyd," he muttered, hoping he guessed right, hoping that this was the baby who had disappeared only moments ago. He hoped that he had returned to him, grown, healthy, strong. That was all he hoped for.

"Dad..."

When the boy stepped toward him, he saw it was not his son, it was a different boy, an older one, hair as golden as the sun and heart darker than shadow. Had he come out of the expansive blackness to torment him, or was he...

Mithos embraced him, leaning up to his ear and whispering fervently, "Yuan's gone. He'll be dead soon. It'll just be you, me, and Martel. Don't worry."

Kratos' heart skipped a beat. "Dead..." he moaned.

"_Dad_," Mithos corrected. "That's you. Dad. Your brain's a little hazy, isn't it? It's okay, it's just a side effect of the mana drainage. You'll be free soon. Everything will go back to normal." Kratos twitched when a soft pair of lips pecked him on the cheek. His skin stung, almost as if he had been struck instead of kissed. "I will be back for you soon. Wait here for me."

The shining boy evaporated like light-struck steam, and for what he hoped was the last time in his life, Kratos was abandoned in the gaping mouth of the vast darkness.

* * *

Lloyd could barely walk. The sun burnt his eyes, and his stomach turned over with every step. He threw up twice on the way out of town. He could only remember bits and pieces of what happened the night before—he had woken up with some serious bruises, so he assumed he had either jumped off a building or gotten into a fight. And he remembered… yes, he remembered stumbling into his room, and finding Colette there, staring out the window, motionless. He had tried to walk over to her, but only tripped over his own feet. He had fallen right next to her, and she had not even noticed. So he curled himself at her feet and begged her for forgiveness.

"Come back to us, Colette," he remembered crying. "Come back, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She only stared out the window, ignoring his voice. He rolled onto her feet, and began to hum drunkenly to himself, as if that would somehow make the nausea go away. "Rest easy, my darling, for something, something... hmm hmm, I'll wait for you at the edge of the water, just kiss me once... before... Oh shit." He clutched at her legs, sure he was about to vomit, and lay there until the feeling passed. He looked up at Colette, almost glowing in the moonlight, and wanted her to hit him, to pay him back for letting her get into this state. Please destroy me, he thought, before he passed out on the floor.

"Hey, Lloyd, I'm talking to you!" Zelos had apparently been chatting away. Lloyd hadn't noticed.

"What?"

"I said, did you get laid last night?"

Lloyd thought of Colette, her empty eyes, her motionless body… "No," he said.

"Aw, man, me neither. Total failure. I got so hammered I couldn't get it up,"

"Shut up, Zelos!" Sheena called back from the front. "There are children present!"

"Yeah, like they notice!" Zelos called back. Their guide, a small girl who never spoke, walked so far ahead she probably couldn't hear a word they were saying. She probably didn't care, either. Genis had followed her closely, obviously infatuated, so he wasn't paying much attention either. "So, anyway," Zelos continued. "I paid two girls to go at it and just watched, then called it a night."

"You are absolutely outrageous," Sheena said.

"Oh, Sheena, are you jealous?"

"No, I'm disgusted. I've never in my life met someone so debauched."

"Well, maybe next time you can come out with us and see how fun debauchery really is. Let the good times roll, and all. Just don't fall behind."

"I could drink you into the ground, punk." Lloyd believed her—he himself certainly couldn't keep up. Maybe if Zelos adopted Sheena as a party mate, he would be spared all these nasty hangovers. Please, Sheena, he thought, go out with him. Just once, so he doesn't take me.

"Yeah? You wanna bet?" Zelos laughed. "Next time, you're coming with us, and I'm gonna leave you in the dust."

"Deal," Sheena said.

Oh, thank Martel. Lloyd would be safe, for a while. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued forward. He kept to himself, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, so absorbed in his step-counting that he bumped into Raine when they had all come to an abrupt halt. Lloyd looked up to find that they were at the edge of a shadowy forest, giant and eerily foreboding. All of them hesitated at the sight of the menacing woods except Presea, the guide, who walked right in. They had no choice but to follow her if they wanted to get to Ozette.

"Hey, Zelos," Lloyd said quietly, when they were under the cover of umbrageous branches.

"Yeah?"

"What happened last night, anyway? What are these bruises?"

"Ha! You little dope, you don't even remember! We fought. Again."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you swung at me, I kicked you into the dirt, you gave up and then threw up all over my new pants." Lloyd doubted that was how it all went down, since Zelos seemed to have a few good contusions himself. "Then we went our separate ways. I went off to find new trousers and wonderful ladies, and you had to find a doctor, probably."

"Hmm." Lloyd left it there. Why did he keep letting Zelos take him out with him? He couldn't believe he was sucked into so many misadventures with this madman—

"Look out!" Raine shouted, and Lloyd barely had enough time to draw his sword before what seemed to be a giant pair of legs flew from the trees and pummeled him. Zelos drew his knife, swearing, and suddenly their hangovers were the least of their worries. Lloyd raised his blade, pangs of red-hot pain shooting through his left arm, power through his right. What the hell was happening, who was this guy, what if he got to Colette—

A blinding, intoxicating sort of exhilaration took him over, consuming his mind, electrifying his muscles, and he hammered away at his assailant. Powered by that too familiar darkness, he sliced through air, and air, and air again, blind to everything, until finally metal met flesh. Lloyd screamed, dragging the blade across the man's stomach, and swung back around for another blow. Again, Flamberge drew blood, and Lloyd slid to his left, raising the pommel and bludgeoning the man's head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding, as Lloyd flicked blood from his sword. The whole affair must've taken fewer than five seconds, since his companions had not even managed to reach him before he cut down his attacker. He stood over the incapacitated man and raised his sword, ready to strike the finishing blow.

"Whoa, hold up, Lloyd!" Zelos yelled. "How will we get any info outta him if he's dead?"

Lloyd looked at the man, bleeding on the ground, and thought it would be a waste of time to not just kill him and be done with it. He banished the thought, trying to send sentiments like that back into his exsphere. He forced himself to sheathe his sword and clenched his fists, telling the anger to retreat back into the little rock.

"Who was that?" he asked. "A bandit?"

"Maybe…" Zelos bent over the man, examining his strong chin, blue hair, and what looked to be a convict's getup. "Do I know him… No way." He laughed a little. "Look at him, we don't even need to tie him up. He's already wearing handcuffs."

"What?" Lloyd asked. "Why?"

"Some sort of fetishist, probably," Zelos suggested.

"Zelos!" Sheena appeared behind him and struck the back of his head.

"Hey! Don't knock it till you try it, honey."

Raine stepped up to the profusely bleeding bandit and knelt beside him. "Oh, gods. I don't know what I can do for him. He's bleeding out. Maybe if I can... no, I don't have the skill or equipment. Presea?"

The girl looked at Raine but didn't offer any words.

"Is there a physician in Ozette?"

She nodded.

"Then he might have a chance." Raine lay her hands across his chest and went to work for a few minutes. When she was finished, she stood up and looked at Lloyd. "You really got him, you know."

Lloyd, still partially intoxicated with the power from his exsphere, came to his own defense. "So what? You wanted me to just let him kill us? Should I apologize for defending myself?"

"No," Raine sighed. "You did what you could. Just... never mind."

When the last of the dark power crept back into the little stone, the anger that had overwhelmed him was suddenly replaced by guilt. "I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't..."

"Well, if we want to get him to a doctor, we'll need to carry him the rest of the way," Sheena said. "Zelos, come help me with him."

"Allow me." It was the first time Lloyd had heard their guide speak. She strode up to the unconscious man, followed closely by Genis.

"Presea, you can't do it by yourself," Genis said. "Let me help."

"Not necessary." Their assailant was a big man, but she hoisted him onto her tiny shoulders like he weighed nothing. She set off again, the man's feet dragging in the dirt behind her. Genis looked like he was going to cry.

Presea managed to haul the man's unconscious body all the way to Ozette, where they left him to the care of the resident physician. Deciding that perhaps it was best to keep a close eye on him, they left Lloyd in the tiny clinic to watch over him. Lloyd helped the doctor swathe him in bandages after he'd been sewn up, but he still looked terrible. It wasn't like he was fit enough to pose a threat, but here Lloyd was, making sure he didn't try anything. As dark crept over the dusty, tiny town, Lloyd cupped his chin and watched him sleep, not exactly pleased to get stuck playing warden.

There wasn't much to guard. The bandit never woke up, so Lloyd was stuck watching him do nothing for the entirety of the evening. The physician was in and out of the tiny clinic, gathering herbs and disinfectants from the local store, bringing food for both of them from his house down the tiny dirt road. He sat beside Lloyd, watching the bandit sleep, sighing and snacking on the small dinner his wife had made.

"To be honest, I don't think he's going to make it."

Lloyd's heart sank. "Are you sure?"

"What, you're concerned about him? Gods, boy, he attacked you. Probably would've taken all your stuff, too."

"For some reason I have a feeling that's not the case."

The doctor chewed, momentarily speechless. "You have a kind heart, I reckon. Stupidly kind."

Lloyd wished he did, but he knew better than that. He knew his heart was anything but, after what he'd done to Colette. After his new exsphere began to have any say in his actions. And he was still unsure about whether this bandit deserved what he got. He didn't know if he'd done the right thing, but he did know that he had dealt with this man's ilk before, and they were usually not kind people. He'd learned that the hard way.

That was the first time he'd seen a man die.

When he was nine, his father decided that he might as well go to school in Palmacosta. But to get there, they had to cross an expansive mountain range.

"Why can't we go the easy way?" Lloyd asked, not looking forward to the hours of uphill climbing.

"Because there have been bandits about. We're accompanying a caravan, as protection. This job will pay for your school fees for the first year, at least."

"But dad…"

"Just listen to me, Lloyd. You stay near the caravan. Don't stray. I'll protect you. Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine."

In hindsight, Lloyd should've listened to his father. But on the mountainside, in the late afternoon light, he had seen that beautiful bird, shining brilliantly. He had followed it, stumbling between trees, trying to catch another glimpse of it. The bird drifted behind the snowcapped peaks, emerging and disappearing periodically. For a while, Lloyd enjoyed their game of hide-and-seek, until he realized he had strayed too far from the caravan.

"Dad?" he called to the darkness around him. "Dad?" There was nothing for miles but endless trees, and the sun was setting rapidly. How would he get back, how would he—

And then a hand was around him, dragging him upward.

"Look what I found!" It wasn't a friendly voice. Lloyd felt his feet leave the ground, and began to kick furiously. His struggling had no effect, and he was hauled to a tree and shoved against it. A knife hovered at his throat, and a grinning face floated beside it, too close to his. The bandit had bloodshot eyes and stinking breath, and Lloyd tried to turn his head so he didn't have to see or smell him.

"Whatcha got there?" another thief emerged from the shadows.

"Dinner!"

Lloyd began to cry, and the men guffawed. "He looks so tender!"

Lloyd tried to struggle, and the man holding him cut his cheek. Sharp pain froze him in place, and that was when he realized he could actually die, right there, right then. "We're gonna eat your plump little cheeks first," the bandit grinned almost toothlessly.

"That is, unless you tell us where that expensive caravan of yours is headed next."

"I don't… know," Lloyd sobbed.

"Do you think we should nibble on his eyes first?" one said.

"Or maybe his lying tongue," the other suggested.

"I don't know!" Lloyd insisted.

"Well, that's too bad. We're just gonna have to gut you like—"

Halfway through his threat, Lloyd saw a sword bury itself in one side of his neck and emerge out the other. He stood there, shocked, silent. Only after the sword had been pulled from the man's throat and blood spattered Lloyd's face did he find that he could scream. And he did. Gods, he screamed. He was sure he could've brought down the whole mountain. He didn't stop until both bandits were dead, and he looked up to see his bloodstained father, sword at the ready, face red with fury. He strode toward Lloyd, flicking blood form his sword, smelling of rage and violence.

Lloyd was certain his father was going to kill him for wandering off. He curled into a ball at the base of the tree, covering his head. "Don't kill me, dad! Please don't hurt me!"

But to Lloyd's great surprise, his father didn't cut him down. He only sheathed his sword, bent down and picked him up. Lloyd froze, allowing himself to be carried back to the camp by his wordless father, sure that if he moved or talked it would be the end of him. For what seemed like hours, his father carried him, jaw clenched, and Lloyd knew that when they reached the caravan he was in for a beating like no other. The caravan was set up by an alpine river, fires lit, the smell of dinner wafting from the flames. Instead of carrying him to the fire, his scowling father set him down at the edge of the water.

Lloyd was still trembling when the cold drops splashed over his face. He gasped, tried to push his dad away, but was held firm. He submitted to the cold bath, shivering, as the freezing water washed all the blood from him. His father, after he was sure that his son was clean, started scrubbing the blood from his own hands.

Without a word, Lloyd's cheek was bandaged, his clothes changed, and he was tucked into bed with no dinner. Hours later, he was still shivering, but not with cold. He could still feel the blood on his face, could still see the look in the man's eyes the moment the sword went through him. He relived that moment over and over, as the camp quieted down and darkness settled over it. Late in the evening, the tents were set up, the fires extinguished, and the whole caravan was asleep, but Lloyd was still awake, trembling.

In his nine-year-old brain, he was making calculations. He had seen a man die, and now he couldn't sleep. What if, for every person he saw killed, he would lose another night's rest? It seemed to make sense to him. In that case, he would have to stay awake for two nights. But his father… his father hadn't slept in years. Lloyd mustered the bravery to speak.

"Dad?" he barely whispered, and almost immediately his father was at his side, still reeking of violence. "Dad?" he said again.

"What?"

He forced himself to ask it. "How many people have you killed?"

He could almost hear the man deflate. Lloyd flinched, expecting to be struck, but instead, a hand softly stroked his hair. "Lloyd. That is an unkind question to ask."

Lloyd needed to know. He plucked up the courage to look into his father's face, and saw not rage, but an unprecedented sadness. He stared until Kratos gave in.

"Too many, son."

"Is that why you never sleep?"

"Oh, Lloyd." His father gathered him up in his arms. "Can you not sleep?"

Lloyd shook his head and tried not to cry. His father held him silently for a moment, squeezing him a little too hard. "Do you want to see something? Get on my back."

Lloyd, perhaps more afraid to disobey than anything, scrambled up onto his father's back and held on tight.

"Oof, you're getting big for this. Come on." His father began to climb up the hillside. "I know a place you'd like."

"What about the caravan?" Lloyd asked.

"We got all the bandits in the nearby vicinity. I don't hear any more." Lloyd wasn't sure if he wanted to be included in the "we" that killed those men. He didn't want to kill anyone. But he believed his dad when he said he didn't hear any more danger. That man's ears could hear a twig crack from miles away.

Lloyd sat silently on his father's strong back, sucking in the fresh night air. After about an hour of silent climbing, his dad set him down on the ground in front of a large clearing. At the center of the clearing stood the biggest tree Lloyd had ever seen.

"Whoa," was all he could say.

"It's called a Linkite tree."

"It's dead." Lloyd was a little disappointed.

"A long time ago, when I came here last, it was still alive and well."

"How long ago was that?"

"Long before you were born."

"So, like… fifteen years? Twenty?"

To his surprise, his father laughed. "Yes, something like that."

"Dad, look!" Lloyd pointed to the sky. His father instinctively got between him and where he was pointing, but then he grabbed Lloyd's hand and dragged him farther up the hillside, where there was a better view. "What is that bird, dad?" he asked.

"Aska. Look at him go," Kratos lifted Lloyd up higher to get a better view, and they watched the sky until the giant bird disappeared into the distance, taking its brilliant light with it.

"Aska," Lloyd repeated. His wide grin turned into a yawn when an overpowering exhaustion took him. His dad lowered him to the ground, where he leaned against his leg, rubbing his eyes. Kratos stretched his muscles and picked him up again, and began the long trek back to camp. Before they even left the field of the Linkite Tree, Lloyd fell fast asleep in his father's arms.

* * *

By the morning, the bandit had succumbed to his wounds. Since the man in question was undoubtedly some sort of criminal, the physician's report excluded any mention of Lloyd or his party's involvement in the act. It wasn't like there was much law enforcement out here in the boonies, as Zelos called them. There was a drunkard who fancied himself a sheriff, but the whole town was small enough to self-govern.

So it was a little bit of a surprise for Ozette to learn that their local bandit was some big-shot from Meltokio. "Yeah, I finally remember where I know him from," Zelos said as the doctor lay a sheet over the body. "I met him at some party ages ago. He is—was—the big kahuna over at Lezarano."

A strong twinge of anger banished Lloyd's lingering guilt. "The exsphere company?"

"That's the one."

"Then I should've done him the favor of at least finishing him off fast." His left hand fidgeted. He knew it was a little different here in Tethe'alla, but he still had a feeling that in either world, exsphere manufacture was a nasty, nasty business.

"Whoa, calm yourself there, Lloyd," Zelos said, glancing nervously at his twitching arm. "He's not running the thing anymore. He was put away for murder, actually. Death row inmate."

"So he went from mass murder to regular murder. What's your point?"

"My point is, and you should listen in, doctor, because this is important. My point is he's the property of Meltokio. We could bury him here and forget about it, but this particular fellow was likely to be close to the top of the roster at the Colosseum. Especially because of his celebrity. Which means that he's worth thousands of gald in viewing fees. Alive, sadly, not dead, so it wouldn't surprise me to find out that the papal knights are out looking for him. When they find that he's gone and kicked the bucket, they're likely to try and get their money back."

"S... so what do we do?" the doctor stuttered. His clinic was only a one-room hut, so he didn't have much to give. Nobody in the little down did.

Zelos leaned in, almost smirking. "Well, you dispose of his body, discreetly, and tell no one. Not that we were here, not that we were attacked, _nothing._ Deny everything if questioned." Zelos patted the physician on the shoulder and smiled. "You'll be okay."

When they left the medical hut, Lloyd turned to Zelos. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Oh, Lloyd, you dumb little nugget. Can't you see we're being followed?"

"What? By who?"

Zelos shrugged. "I have no idea. Papal knights, perhaps. But they've been following us for a long time. I figured we might've been able to lose them in the forest, but they'll arrive here soon. And then they'll ask around about us."

Lloyd thought of Yggdrasill, of Yuan. Neither option was good, and they seemed the likeliest culprits. "Should we tell the others?"

"In time," Zelos smiled. "For now we just need to keep the townspeople quiet. I think we did a good job of that."

"What about Presea?" Lloyd asked.

"She's probably already in Meltokio by now. She doesn't seem like the talking type. But... you know, you can't keep everything perfectly under control."

Lloyd sighed, briefly glancing at his exsphere, and had to agree. "No. No you can't."


	17. Night

The forest was still, windless, filled with a dim yellow glow. At midday the creatures of Gaoracchia crept back into their holes, when the sunlight was brightest, and there they would stay until afternoon. This was the easiest, and quietest, time to travel through the forest, so traffic was at its maximum. That is, one girl, silent and deliberate, hauled her sacred log down the shadowy road to Meltokio. The only sound was the crunch of her footsteps and the earthy noise of the log dragging behind her.

When Botta spied her from the shadows, he decided that she was too oblivious to be any trouble. He squinted to make out the exsphere on her chest, and upon closer inspection, he recognized that particular design. One of Rodyle's nastier ones, damn him. He didn't have time to pity the girl, nor the resources to help her; he only knew that she would answer his questions and think nothing of it. She was as close to mindless as it got, so she was probably the safest bet he had. He signaled to his two guards to stay hidden, and stepped out onto the road in front of her.

She stopped and stared, expressionless. She didn't reach for her weapon, she didn't ask him to move, she only stood there, waiting for him to say or do something. He knew he would be in for some trouble if she pegged him a threat, given her particular design of exsphere. She didn't look like she could swing the axe she carried, but Botta knew better.

"Girl," Botta said softly. "What people have you seen crossing these woods in the past few days?"

She blinked at him with empty eyes. "Few? Please specify."

"Four. Four days."

"Four days ago, three men came through. I do not know them. Three days ago, I saw no one. Two days ago, a woman alone passed through. I do not know where she went. One day ago, a party of six requested that I guide them to Ozette."

"Those people. Did you leave them there?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." Botta turned to go, confident that he knew which direction they were headed. They must be going to beg for dwarven assistance, what with the Sylvaranti Chosen as she was. He raised a hand to signal to his subordinates, but the girl wasn't done yet.

"Earlier this morning another woman came through, alone. She wore armor."

Botta turned stiffly, breaking out in a slight sweat. "Was she elven? Half-elven?"

"I do not know."

"Did she talk to you?"

"Yes."

Botta waited, then realized he'd have to prod her to get her to speak. "What did she ask you?"

"The same question you did."

Botta swore, running through the options in his head. He could risk it, risk running into her to keep Cruxis' paws off the Chosen, but that would mean that he would reveal that the Renegades knew more than they let on. If anyone saw him here, Cruxis might figure out that he had an agent in the Chosen's party, whom they would then capture and interrogate. They might find out too much. Martel knows the Renegades' only advantage was the element of surprise. They weren't heavily equipped, not particularly well-organized, and all members were idealists in their own unique ways. Not the sorts that made good soldiers. Botta ran through plans, weighing the risks and benefits. He would have to be extra careful in the next few days. Everything depended on it.

"May I go?" the girl asked, and Botta realized she had been waiting there while he buried himself in his thoughts.

"Oh, yes. You may go. Thank you."

She walked off, silent, and made her way down the path into the shadowy distance. Botta returned to his guards, leaned on a broad tree trunk, and pulled out his communicator.

"Sir?" one of them asked.

"There are some new developments. Keep watch while I make my report." He bent over the tiny device, trying to type with his big fingers. He hated these things, but Yuan insisted they carry them.

_Party in Ozette, _he wrote._ Pronyma suspected nearby. Will proceed with caution. __Orders?_

He waited a few minutes for a reply. When it came, he lifted the device and squinted to read it. _Please don't do anything that will kill you._

He had to smile. Only Yuan would issue an order prefaced with "please." Botta wondered how Yuan even got mixed up in this whole mess. That man didn't belong out here, in the pitiless crossfire. He belonged somewhere quiet, peaceful, where wisdom and not violence could be cultivated. Where he could put away his blade and bring out his spectacles. But Yuan had done his best with what the world had given him, even if he was an incorrigible idealist and hopeless romantic. Maybe that's why Botta believed in him. Maybe that's why Botta stayed when he could have left. So he could make the world the best possible place for people like Yuan, when people like him, the fighters, the commanders, the brutally fearless, were obsolete.

_Yes sir_, he wrote back.

He looked at his guards. "We may have Desian company in the near future. Keep on your toes. This could get ugly."

"Aye, sir," one answered, smiling a little.

He relaxed knowing he had loyal and competent backup. He knew these Renegade scouts lived for this sort of thing, and he knew that they would follow him into whatever quagmire he dove into. Whether or not they would follow him back out was the real question.

* * *

"No. No, I can't." The dwarf Altessa stood at the window, staring out into the dusty sun. He turned, and displayed his mangled hands. "I swore I'd never make anything again. Do these hands look like they can help you?"

Yes, Lloyd knew the story. The dwarf had at first resisted, told them to get out, to get lost and never return, but when he saw Colette, he ambivalently relented and let them inside, where he told them his sad tale. He had been a slave to Cruxis, carving exspheres and Crystals, day in, day out, until the guilt had been too much for him and he hammered his own hands to escape his employers. "I've ruined so many lives, hurt so many people. Men, women. Children, even. I've done things I never wish to speak of. Things I will never do again." Of course he was not lacking in contrition, but he couldn't do anything for them. He had destroyed the hands that hurt, but also the hands that could've helped.

"If one of you were knowledgeable in the dwarven arts then I could instruct you," Altessa said. "But seeing as none of you are, you're going to have to find another dwarf. The only other one I've heard of lives in Sylvarant. He might be able to help you."

One of the refugees from the Asgard human ranch had mentioned that there was a dwarf in Iselia who could make key crests for them. Lloyd wondered if he could make one for Colette.

Altessa let them stay for the night, perhaps as consolation for his failure to assist them. They lounged around his big oak table, twiddling thumbs and discussing how to get back to Sylvarant.

"Well, if we could repair the Rheiards, then we could get back," Sheena said. "But we have a few problems. Firstly, we'd have to either crawl back to the Renegades and beg for fuel, or we'd have to power them with something… else."

"What?" Raine asked, nudging her.

"Volt, the summon spirit. He could power them. But there's another problem. The only accessible door from here to Sylvarant is right in the Renegades' territory."

"It seems they've monopolized the route between worlds. At least, the easiest one," Raine said. "But there are others." She stared at the center of the table like there was something magnificent going on there.

"What are you thinking, sis?" Genis asked her.

"Well, all of it will be for naught if we don't get Volt's power. Otherwise, we'd have to go back to the Renegades, and who knows what they would do with the Chosen, at least in her current state."

"I guess we don't have that much of a choice," Lloyd sighed.

"My hometown is on the way," Sheena said. "We can stop there if we need to."

That night, after the others had gone to bed and Colette was comfortably staring at the wall, Raine found Lloyd and sat next to him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to begin my studies on your exsphere. I gathered some equipment from a pharmacy in Meltokio. Medicine is so advanced here—it's amazing."

Raine produced a leather-bound notebook, a pair of gloves, tweezers, scalpel, bandages, and a varied selection of nasty-looking metallic tools. Lloyd gulped, but offered her the hand housing the malign little stone. She examined it closely, turning it over, rubbing his skin, even sniffing it once before jotting it all down in her notebook.

"Please answer these questions honestly," she said.

"Uh. Okay."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"How often?"

"Um, I guess, a lot." She gave him a look that told him to be a little more specific. "Well, when I fight, or when I'm scared, it hurts the most. It burns, almost. It feels like it's sending, I don't know, lightning or something through me. Sometimes when I wake up from a bad dream, it's throbbing. Or, that night in Meltokio, that was the worst of it, I think. Since I got the key crest it's been feeling much better."

Raine took his hand in hers and prodded the tender skin around his exsphere. "How about the surrounding area? Does it hurt?"

"Ouch! Yeah."

"Apparently. How about here? Here? Here?" As she poked his skin farther and farther from the stone, the pain receded. He sat there for what seemed like hours, responding to her prods somewhat robotically with an assessment of how much it hurt, like an especially unpleasant game of hot-or-cold.

After a while, Raine snapped on her plastic gloves and Lloyd gulped. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a sample."

"What?" Lloyd said, but before he could pull away she was already leaning over him, scraping some skin off the top of his hand with what seemed to be a medical-grade cheese grater. "Ow!"

"Sorry, Lloyd. But this is for the sake of inquiry." She lifted the grater and examined it. "You may go. I'll need to take a closer look at this."

"Uh. Thanks?" Lloyd rubbed his hand. It was a little scraped up, but he wasn't bleeding. Overall it was a much more pleasant experience than his examinations at the ranch. But then again, pretty much any experience was better than anything he'd gone through in that hell. He stood up and stretched his legs, yawning. He could tell the night was getting cooler by the breeze that drifted through the small window.

"I think I'm gonna walk for a bit," Lloyd said. He thought it might clear his head, or distract him from the mild throbbing in his left hand.

"Don't wander too far."

"I won't, Prof."

He closed Altessa's round door behind him and strode off into the night, breathing in the cool air, the scent of juniper, the dusty smell of the dry dirt. He thought about how long he had to enjoy sensations like this. Maybe he should avoid getting too attached to worldly senses, since he would be leaving them behind soon. Or maybe he should take pleasure in them now, while he still could. Gods, he was so confused. He had never died before, so he wasn't sure how to do it properly.

Don't think about it, he told himself. Just walk. So he did, trying to lose himself in the chilly night. He had only wandered for a few minutes when he heard voices echo between the shadowy trees.

"You'd better clear out. There's someone else following us and I don't want this turning into a snafu."

"I could get rid of them for you."

Lloyd strained his neck to hear. One voice clearly belonged to Zelos, but the other, he couldn't recognize. It sounded like a woman's. Lloyd wondered if the amorous Chosen had convinced one of the village women to meet him out here. He should probably turn back, unless he wanted to see something really nasty.

"No, darling, don't. Discretion is best, especially in these sorts of... trysts. You should go. Leave the rest to me. I'll talk to you later."

Well, that romantic endeavor was shorter than Lloyd expected. Or maybe he had mercifully missed the traumatizing bits. He still wasn't fond of the idea of running into Zelos as he pulled his pants back on, so he turned to go. He planned to get back to Altessa's before Zelos discovered him, and quietly snuck through the brush.

He was about halfway back to the house, and just beginning to think he had lost Zelos, when the Chosen pounced on him. "Llo-o-o-oyd! What are you doing out at this late hour?"

"Uh. Nothing. Just a walk."

"You didn't happen to run into anything suspicious, did you?"

"You mean like you out here womanizing in the dark? Nope."

Zelos seemed suddenly nervous. "Uh. What did you see?"

"Nothing. You should probably be quieter about sweet-talking the local girls."

"Haha, _oh_. Of course. Wouldn't want anyone to find out I'm a ladies' man, now would we?"

Lloyd smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."

"I can rest easy now." After a moment, Zelos sighed. "Why are you out here alone, though?"

"I dunno. Just felt like walking."

"You're not feeling guilty about killing that guy, are you?" Lloyd stayed silent, looking at the ground in front of him. "What's the matter, you haven't killed people before?"

"Yeah. A few."

"If it helps, he was put away for a pretty heinous crime. Murdering his girlfriend, apparently for no reason. From what I heard, they were doing fine. He was some top-drawer president, and she was, I dunno, some sorta servant girl. Dream come true, you know? It was the kinda love that comes straight from those crappy romance novels. Everything was great, and then he just snapped. Boom. Strangled her dead. No warning. So it's better that there's not a guy like that in the world anymore."

Better off dead, Lloyd thought. Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn't help thinking of his father, cutting his mother down. Maybe he had snapped, as Zelos put it. Maybe he had not done it at all. But everywhere he went, it seemed this particular motif and its variations were following him. He didn't even care if they were lies or truth at this point. He just wanted to stop hearing about these horrific cases of intimate murder.

"I just don't know," Lloyd mumbled as they approached the dim light of Altessa's house. Zelos opened the door for him and ushered him inside.

"I'm gonna make some coffee if there is any. You want some?"

"No thanks." Lloyd left Zelos to raid the kitchen and made his way to the back room, where Colette sat motionless on the bed. Toiletries were scattered around her, a still-damp cloth, a pair of tweezers, a hairbrush, pins. Usually it was Raine's job to keep Colette clean, to give her sponge baths and brush her hair, to examine her daily for any injuries she might've acquired but couldn't tell them about. But right now, Raine was nowhere in sight, so Lloyd sat beside Colette on the bed and picked up the brush.

"How was your day?" he asked her, running the brush through her golden hair. He tugged at some tangles and knots, trying his best not to hurt her. He didn't know if she could feel pain or not, but he knew she couldn't express it either way. "My day was... fine." He wondered if he just kept talking to her, kept asking her questions, she might eventually just turn around and answer. So he spoke to her softly, brushing her hair, getting into the rhythm of the strokes. "I hope I'm doing this right," he said. "I don't have enough hair to need to brush, really. Maybe I should ask Zelos to do this." He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. "You know, my hair really only just grew back to its normal length. When I first got to the ranch, they shaved it all off, but after that, they didn't seem to care if it grew back. Mostly, prisoners cut each other's hair, if we needed to. The head-shaving was probably, I dunno, some protocol thing. Maybe it was just for delousing. I had lice once, when I was a kid. The whole school got it. Even Genis, but don't tell him I told you."

He brushed her hair until it shone, and couldn't help reaching out to touch it. As he ran his fingers through it, he spied something round and greenish on her neck, like a tiny beetle. He lifted her hair to brush it away, but when he touched it, he realized that it was firmly attached to her skin. He squinted, leaning in closer, running his finger across it. It was small, hard, and seemed somehow to be a part of her. He briefly thought he might try to tug it off, but he didn't know if that would hurt her. He also didn't know if she would attack him for it. He figured he'd better get Raine.

He replaced the strand of yellow hair and stood, turning to see Raine already in the doorway. "What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh. Nothing. I just... brushed her hair. But there's something strange on her neck. Like a tick, or something, but green. And hard. It's totally weird."

Raine said nothing. She only stood in the doorway and crossed her arms.

Lloyd squinted at her. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

She nodded. "It's only been there for about a day or so. I'm still trying to figure out what it is. If we can keep it under control, it should be fine. But I don't want everyone to panic. I have... I have a theory. It resembles a disease I've read about, but I can't be sure. It's probably nothing serious, just a skin infection. Either way, it's the least of her health worries right now."

Lloyd shrugged. "I guess so."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Lloyd. There are plenty of facilities here in Tethe'alla that could easily handle it." She sat down next to him, folding her hands. "It's amazing, really. Things that kill us over in Sylvarant are mere nuisances here. Easily preventable, with all the vaccines they have. Gods, I wish I could've studied medicine here. Did you know that they have a machine that can both diagnose and treat chronic..."

Lloyd had stopped listening, and was staring at Colette, at her empty eyes and expressionless face. He wondered if she was in pain, if she was tired, hungry, scared, alone, and just couldn't express it. Well, he would be there for her. From now on, until his end, even if that was only a short time away.


	18. Disappointment

When they passed through Ozette on their way back into the woods, Genis looked nervously around, as if waiting for something. He tried to make it seem like he wasn't searching high and low for Presea, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Give up, kid. She's long gone. Back to the capital," Zelos told him as they neared the edge of town.

"You don't know that," Genis replied, frowning.

This whole situation seemed to amuse both Zelos and Sheena to no end. "Look, he's in so much love, it's amazing," she said, patting the boy's head. Genis slapped her hand away.

"Don't settle down with just one chick yet, kid," Zelos put in. "You're too young. Go out and taste-test. You know, try before you buy."

"Shut up, you guys!" Genis yelled, turning red. "Lloyd, help me out over here."

Lloyd only shrugged. It was too easy to rile Genis up—there wasn't much he could do for him. He wasn't about to beat up Sheena and Zelos the way he used to beat up Genis' schoolboy bullies. He only trudged along silently with Colette at his side, holding her hand and talking quietly to her. Sometime in the mid-afternoon, shortly after they exited the forest, a small, shadowy town came into view. It was nestled in the crest of a green valley, walled and protected, overshadowed by huge trees. It didn't exactly look welcoming.

"Okay, listen," Sheena said when they arrived at its gates. "They don't usually allow strangers in here, so you guys wait out here while I go on in and explain the situation." She called up the wall in a language Lloyd didn't understand, and two helmeted heads appeared at the top. They replied, waved their arms, and the gate slowly opened. Sheena glanced behind her, gave them a smile, then disappeared into the town.

They waited outside for hours. Genis amused himself with his kendama, trying new spells and tricks out on a rock that sat helplessly nearby. Raine produced a massive tome from her pack and began to read it. Zelos was trying to strike up a flirty conversation with an unresponsive Colette, who only stared into the distance.

"What are you reading?" Lloyd asked Raine, leaning over her shoulder. He found the book was in a tongue he couldn't understand, but the script looked somehow familiar. "Hey, what language is that?" he asked.

"Oh, this is a hybrid dialect from around the time of the Kharlan War. It was mostly spoken by humans, but it seems that some half-elves were fluent in it as well."

"Are you fluent in it?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm learning, but I can read well enough."

Lloyd wondered if she would be able to decipher the ancient books that his father had hidden at their mountain rendezvous point. Maybe after they got Colette all fixed up he could take Raine there and she could help him find out what his dad had been up to this whole time. This was far into the future, though. For now, he'd just have to focus on sitting around and waiting for Sheena.

She took hours, but before the sun touched the tips of the hills, she was back out, motioning for them to come inside. Lloyd had never seen a town like this one before—the buildings were low to the ground and looked to be covered in paper. The clothes, too, were just plain weird.

Sheena led them into a house, slid open the paper door, made them take off their shoes, and sat them around the lowest table Lloyd had ever seen. "We're staying here tonight," Sheena said. "Tomorrow, we're sailing for Volt's tower. So get some rest."

They were brought rice, soup, meat, and a strange-smelling liqueur.

"This glass is _tiny_," Zelos complained, downing it immediately. "I'm going to need some more." Apparently he had underestimated the potency of the sake, since he drank himself into a stupor by nine. "Damn," he muttered as Sheena stood over him, smirking. "I'm no cheap date, dear, but that stuff is deadly." He passed out at the table and began to snore loudly, so Sheena dragged him into a corner and threw a few pillows on him.

"That should keep him quiet until morning," she said. "I'll see all you guys bright and early. Then it's off to the tower…" She looked down at her feet for a moment.

"Sheena? What's wrong?" Lloyd asked.

"Nothing. Go to bed." Sheena shut the sliding door and disappeared. Everyone went to bed one by one, except for Colette, who stood in the corner, motionless, staring at the wall, as she did every night. Lloyd lay on his mat on the floor and watched her. He couldn't fall asleep—it was too hot, he was too uncomfortable. He kicked off his blankets and rolled to his side, not taking his eyes off her. He didn't know why he looked at her for so long; it's not like she was likely to do anything interesting.

He heard a sound and sat up. Colette stayed where she was, sensing no danger, but Lloyd used the rustling as an excuse to get up and go for a midnight creep. He tiptoed across the room, patting Colette's shoulder on the way, opened the sliding door, and stepped out into the fresh night.

"Don't worry, Sheena, I'm sure nothing will happen this time." The voice was faint but familiar.

"I appreciate it, but I've already failed once."

"I'll be here for you this time." Lloyd recognized Corinne's voice, and tried to sneak closer. Sheena and Corinne were sitting at the edge of the creek, watching the night bugs flit.

"You can come out, Lloyd," Sheena said without turning around. He sighed, and did. He must've made too much noise.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as Corinne jumped in Sheena's lap to make room for him.

"Yeah. I'm just a little worried."

"About Volt?"

Sheena nodded.

"Why?"

"Well… because last time I tried to make a pact with him, I failed. I couldn't understand him. He spoke… some sort of ancient language. I think I must've offended him, because he went on a killing rampage. Took out a quarter of the town."

"Sheena…"

"It's a miracle they let me back in here. And now they're going to take me to make another pact. Half the town hates me, and the other half tried to forget me. So it's insane that they would even help me." She hugged her knees to her chest.

Lloyd put a hand on her shoulder. "If anything happens, I'll take out Volt myself."

She laughed. "Thanks, Lloyd. I'm glad to have you for help. You too, Corinne." She patted the little fox. "We've come a long way."

"A long way?"

"Since we were hired to take out Colette. Man, I have never met two people who were worse at their jobs than we are."

"I guess we did what we thought was right."

"_Thought_..." Sheena muttered, before turning to look at Lloyd's left exsphere. "And we paid the price for it. You so more than me." Lloyd didn't know what to say to that. He covered his exsphere almost self-consciously, as Sheena continued, "How long do you have? Do you know?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"Well, if anything should happen in the near future, to either of us, just know I'm happy I had you as a comrade."

Lloyd smiled. "You too, Sheena."

"You should get some sleep. I suppose I should as well."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lloyd."

When Lloyd returned to the room, he found Genis awake, watching Colette, who in turn watched the wall like it would get up and run off any minute.

"What are you still doing up?" he asked.

"I couldn't sleep," Genis answered. "I think… I think that having Colette near me scares me a little bit."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well… I don't really know. I think I feel responsible for her being like this, you know? Maybe you don't understand."

"Yeah. I do, actually." Lloyd sat down beside him.

"I know she would never hurt us, but I can't help feeling… well, you know what the others say about her."

"They might be right," Lloyd admitted. "But so far she seems to know we aren't a threat. I think we should probably just treat her with kindness and she'll come back to us." Lloyd knew he was lying; he didn't know what would make the Chosen come back, but hearing his own voice sound so confident was reassuring, for both of them.

"You know, Lloyd, you're pretty amazing."

"Shut up, Genis." Lloyd was unused to a compliment from his friend without it being followed up by an insult or caveat of some sort.

"No, I really mean it. I've always been jealous of your bravery, you know. Even though… even though the Desians got you. Even with that exsphere. Even though everything we've done has been a failure, you keep on going. When you lost your dad… you kept on going. Even if it was wrong, even if you didn't know what you were doing, you persisted. If I lost Raine… I don't know what I'd do."

Lloyd wasn't sure if Genis was giving him a compliment or a criticism. Often when it came to him and his sister, the two were coupled in some way. "Well… you know, I do have a habit of running away from my problems. I was always trying to escape my dad. It's weird that I'd be out looking for him now."

"Yeah. I remember you complaining about him a lot. And I guess you did try to escape a few times. From school, I mean. You're so lucky you had me to cover for you."

"Yeah. I guess I was." Lloyd paused, looking at his feet for a moment. "Well, if Colette goes crazy, I'll protect you from her."

"How?" Genis laughed. "By kissing her to death?"

Lloyd smacked the back of his head, and he flinched, grinning. "Get some sleep, Genis."

"You too, you dope."

* * *

A couple years ago, near the end of the school year, Lloyd decided he was done. He had just been removed from classes for "taking disciplinary measures into his own hands," and as a consequence, was promptly on the receiving end of the school's own disciplinary measures. All because he had the gall to do something right. Besides, the other boy didn't get in trouble for all the months of teasing Genis, and here Lloyd got himself punished for daring to swing a single punch. Well, he was over it.

The school had said they had contacted his father, but Lloyd knew that he moved around so much it'd be impossible to actually find him. No one knew where his dad went during the school year. So he figured his father wouldn't know he had gone missing until weeks after he'd made his escape. That would give him a good head start, at least.

The only other person he told of his plans was Genis. He tried to convince him to come along, but Genis insisted on staying. Well, that was his choice. Genis belonged in school, anyway. Not like Lloyd, whose academic record suggested he was more fit for labor than sums.

He sauntered down the steps to the academy and wandered toward the harbor. He carried a bag with only the barest essentials, since he would need to travel light. And he brought with him all the courage he could muster.

"Yo! Where you going?" Lloyd froze. For a moment he thought that perhaps the schoolmasters had found him, but when he turned around, he saw only a few of the boys from his class, waving and laughing. "We're going to the girls' academy to see if we can score some chicks," one said.

"Yeah, Tommy has to go serenade his girlfriend," said another.

"She is not my girlfriend."

"Yeah, right, sure. Anyway, you coming? You look like you could use some female company."

Lloyd didn't know what he meant by that, but he only shook his head. "I have some errands to run," he told them.

"Aw, that's lame."

"Whatever." Thankfully, they didn't push him further; they were too eager to get to the other side of town and sneak into the girls' dorms before the teachers caught word of what they were doing. Good, Lloyd thought. They'll be a perfect distraction.

He sauntered toward the docks, trying to look like he wasn't up to anything. He was pretty sure he absolutely did look like he was up to something, though, so he hurried on, trying to get hidden as soon as possible.

His only friend, however, was not dumb enough to let him escape that easily. "Lloyd!" he heard a scolding voice. He knew he didn't have time to sink into the crowd, to run away. He turned slowly to see Genis behind him, frowning.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of here," Lloyd said. "What does it look like?"

"Don't do that, Lloyd. I'm sure the prefects and schoolmasters will listen to reason if I vouch for you."

"I'm gonna get expelled anyway," Lloyd said. "You know the rules. I'm screwed, Genis."

"I'm sure they'll change their minds when I tell them what really happened. You don't start fights, you finish them. You're an asset, actually. You know, to the peace."

"Good luck of convincing them of that."

Genis sighed. "Look. I'll tell them what you did for me. I'll tell them about the months of bullying, the racist comments. I'll tell them about how you came to the defense of the elf kid. So stay, will you? I'm sure they'll let you."

Lloyd sighed. "That guy won't bother you again, will he?"

Genis shrugged. "I figured you taught him a lesson. He's scared of me now. Scared of both of us. I'll be okay."

"Good," Lloyd said, and turned to go.

"Wait!" Genis called, but there wasn't anything he could say to convince Lloyd to stay.

Lloyd turned to look at him. "You sure you'll be okay? You don't need me anymore? I have things I want to do, Genis."

"I know. Sorry. It's just… thank you, Lloyd. Thank you for everything. I know you've gotten more than one black eye for my sake."

"No problem, Genis," Lloyd smiled. "They're just jealous because you're some sort of prodigy."

"Uh. Yeah. Well…" Genis looked at the ground. "Goodbye, Lloyd. I'll miss you, I really will." Without warning he wrapped his arms around Lloyd and squeezed.

"Don't get sentimental on me," Lloyd laughed, patting his back. "I'll be back soon. With lots of stories. Just don't tell the schoolmasters."

"I won't. Jeez, you're turning me into some sort of problem child. Wait until my sister finds out I'm the hooligan that helped you escape."

Lloyd chuckled. "You can always come with me."

"Nah, Lloyd. You know I belong here. School's the only thing I'm good at."

"And school's the thing I'm worst at, so I guess we're doing what's best for us. See ya, Genis."

"See you, Lloyd." Genis turned away, back toward the school, shoulders drooping. Lloyd sighed, hoping that he had not hurt the kid too much, but they both had to admit that either way, Lloyd was probably finished at the academy. He just hoped that Genis could make more friends after he was gone.

Lloyd suspected that someone might've seen them conversing, so when the opportunity came, he hid himself in the nearest dingy bar. He looked around for a familiar face, and saw one.

"Oi, little boy, what are you here for?" A scarred but friendly man raised a glass to him and beckoned him over.

"He's here to get a drink, it's already past noon," another said, laughing.

One of the sailors, the one with the nasty scar across his lip, Lloyd knew a little, the other, a skinny, swarthy little man, not at all. He sat himself opposite them in the dusty lamplight.

"When are you shoving off?" he asked. "I'm wanna come along."

The two sailors looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Well, I'll be damned," the skinny one said. "It wants to be a barnacle on your backside."

"Look, kid," scar-lip said. "You're a good lad, runnin' all sorts of errands for us, but… well… you never set foot on a ship, have you?"

Lloyd nodded. "A few times."

"Come on," the second one said. "Let him on. We haven't had a pretty cabin boy since Aifread buggered off with those buncha marauders." The man smiled at Lloyd. "And you know what we do with pretty cabin boys." He made an obscene gesture and Lloyd gulped.

"Oh piss off," the first one said. "He's just messin' with you, boy. But now, why would you wanna run off with us? We ain't gonna pay you well."

Lloyd shook his head. "I don't care. I just need to get outta this place."

Scar-lip smiled, showing off his missing teeth. "Well, ain't he got the illness."

"Yup," the other said. "Look at him. Green with wanderlust."

"Well, look here, kid. We set sail in the evening, when the uh… contraband officers get off duty. Just stick around here until then, and we can see what we can do for you."

So Lloyd spent the afternoon in the dusty safety of the bar, where he was sure no schoolmaster would come looking for him. In the past few months, he had been skipping class to come down here—he told himself it was because he liked the lively atmosphere, but something deeper inside him like to imagine what his father would say if he saw him learning to gamble, drink and swear like a true Palmacostan seaman.

He had made a few friends, mostly older sailors who, in exchange for a pint of beer or a lesson on proper card playing, would get him to deliver a paper-covered package to this or that warehouse with the utmost secrecy. Lloyd didn't know why his nascent delivery business had to be so clandestine, but he hadn't been caught yet. He figured it was his school uniform—who would suspect a boy from such a high-class establishment to get mixed up in the wrong kind of business?

By the end of the afternoon, all his months of favors had paid off. Scar-lip and his swarthy friend returned after a while and motioned for him to follow them. He smiled, grabbed his things and they led him across the harbor to an old but sturdy-looking ship.

He wasn't able to relax until he was on the boat, feeling the creaking wood rock beneath his feet. He smiled when he thought of the stories he would tell Genis when he got back; stories of adventure, excitement, maybe even a little saucy romance. He paced around deck, trying to make himself useful, just eager to get this old tub unmoored and on its way. I'm so close, he thought. So close to freedom.

Then he heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, creaking their way up the ramp and onto the deck. Lloyd went cold, and hid behind a barrel, peeking over only to confirm his suspicions of the carrier of that unmistakable gait. Standing on deck, wearing his most serious frown, was his father.

How in Martel's name did he find him? Wait, if he wasn't even looking for him? What if he didn't even know Lloyd was here, and he was just… what would he be doing on a ship, anyway? Lloyd tried to still his heart, slow his breathing, and stay hidden.

"Hey, boy. What are you doin'?" the skinny, swarthy man leaned over the top of the barrel, spitting his consonants at him. Gods, could he be any louder?

"Shh!" Lloyd said. "Don't turn around. That's my father."

Of course the man immediately turned and briefly examined Kratos. "Oi, he's your dad? You're someone's precious baby bunting?"

"Piss off," Lloyd hissed, trying to shoo the man away, but he only hovered over him, an evil grin plastered over his face.

"Is he rich? Bet he is, sending you to a fancy school like that." The man again turned and looked his father over. "Well, here, follow me quick, you'll be hidden good down here." He grabbed Lloyd's shirtsleeve and dragged him down into the brig. "Now, shut your mouth and stay here, and we'll send him on his way." He patted Lloyd and the head, flashed him a grin, and ascended up into the light, closing the barred door behind him. Lloyd sat in the corner, not sure if he'd been tricked, but at least his father hadn't found him yet. He waited in the dark for what seemed like hours, pricking his ears up at any sign that they may be shoving off.

Then his father's voice came wafting in from above. "Show me he's safe, or I'll burn your ship to cinders."

He heard someone laugh. "You're such a caring man, it's touching, really."

The trapdoor to the brig creaked open and Lloyd stood up. He squinted at the tall, familiar shadow waiting up there for him, and he deflated. He had been so close…

"Come on up, kid," someone called. "We ain't waiting all day."

Lloyd sighed. He knew he couldn't stay down there forever, so he trudged up onto the deck, defeated. He looked at his father, his disappointed frown, his narrowed eyes, and wondered if he was in for a beating. Kratos simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the ship and into the crowded harbor. Lloyd glanced behind him to see all the sailors grinning at him, as if trying to hold in laughter.

When Lloyd wasn't quite out of earshot, he heard someone yell, "Good try, kid! Come back when daddy's not around!" The comment was followed by a burst of laughter.

Lloyd turned red and bit his lip, watching his only means of escape slowly slip from his fingers. All those months of errands, tenuous friendships with iffy drifters, all his effort to work his way into the ranks of globetrotters, all for nothing.

Kratos dragged him all the way through Palmacosta. Lloyd thought he would drop him off back at school, leaving him again in the care of the inflexible schoolmasters, but Kratos marched right past it and toward the city gate. He doesn't know, Lloyd thought. Of course he doesn't know. The school only sent him a letter yesterday. Lloyd was a bit relieved, but he wasn't looking forward to the reprimand he would get when news of his possible expulsion reached Kratos. For now, he would be quiet about it. His father was already mad enough, he didn't need to give him more kindling for his flames.

A little while later, when they had left Palmacosta, his father built a fire on the beach while Lloyd watched the sea. He saw the ship he had nearly escaped on drift away. It was close enough that he swore he could still hear the sailors laughing uproariously at his expense. There goes my ride, he thought. And my dignity.

"We were going to stay at an inn tonight," Kratos said, stacking a log on the fire. "But I had to pay the captain everything I had to get you back."

Lloyd stared at the swaying ship on the misty horizon. "I thought I was finally going to do something I wanted, for a change. I honestly thought they would let me come with them. What a joke."

Kratos sighed. "It's the way it goes. You were of more value as a ransom than a deckhand. That's how people are, Lloyd, that's what they do. They use you until you're no good to them anymore. Then they toss you."

Lloyd looked away from the ship and up to his father. "What are you using me for, then?"

Kratos didn't answer. He sat down beside Lloyd and pulled an ivory pipe from his bag. Lloyd watched him pinch a bit of tobacco and stuff it into the bowl.

"How did you find me, anyway?" Lloyd couldn't help but ask.

"You're my son, Lloyd. I'll always be able to find you."

Lloyd deflated, thankful that he only got a stern word instead of a fist to the face. "For a moment back there I thought you were going to beat me senseless," he dared himself to say.

"I really should've. Martel knows you deserve it. I can do it now, if you wish."

Lloyd shook his head and groaned. "No thanks, dad. You beat me enough." He looked out to the ship again, thinking of the freedom that slipped through his fingers, thinking of the sailors that pawned him off at the slightest glint of gold. He narrowed his eyes and muttered quietly, "Bastards."

As if triggered by his breathy curse, the ship burst into orange flames. Lloyd sprang to his feet and ran to the waterside, watching the mast slowly creak into the ocean, followed by most of the hull.

He turned to see his father sitting and peacefully smoking his pipe. "Dad! Did you do that?" Kratos nodded. "What the hell, dad!" He looked back to the ship to see men jump into the water and begin to paddle back to the harbor.

"They'll live," his father said. "They'll just be out of work for a while."

Lloyd dragged himself back to his father's side, admitting reluctantly that it was at least a little bit satisfying to see all those sailors paddle like dogs back to the shore. Then he banished the thought from his head. What was he thinking? Even if they had sold him back to his dad, they didn't deserve this. No one did. But the ship was already underwater and the sailors well on their way back to the harbor. He was sure they would be fine. But still, something unsettling gnawed at him. "How… how did you do that?" he asked his father.

Kratos lowered his pipe. "Have you heard of a suspended incendiary spell?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"Don't they teach you magic at that school of yours?"

"I... kinda got kicked out of that class when they found out Genis was doing all my homework for me."

"Why was he doing your homework for you?"

"Well, some boys from my year were giving him a hard time. So I've been fending them off for him. He offered to do my homework in return, so I took him up on it."

"Humph. That's awfully mercenary of you."

Lloyd scrunched his nose. "That's an odd thing to hear from an actual mercenary."

Kratos stared into the distance for a few minutes, watching the smoke rise from the ship's wreckage. "So. My only son tries to run off with a bunch of pirates. What were you thinking? Did you think it would make you more of a man?"

"No. It's just…"

"It's just that piracy is a strange occupation for a boy that gets seasick so easily."

Lloyd shrugged. He wasn't sure what to tell him.

"I never had the opportunity to go to a school like that. Don't waste it."

"Where did you go to school?"

"I didn't."

"Then how do you know so much about everything?"

His father only sucked in deep and blew smoke into the sky. "Would you like to learn how to blow smoke rings?"

Lloyd smiled, just slightly. "Okay."

"Here." Kratos handed him the pipe and he took it. Lloyd was pretty sure this was some sort of rite of passage, and his heart skipped a beat as he raised it to his mouth.

"First, you have to hold your tongue like this. No, not like that, like _this_…"


	19. Dirk

"Sheena." Lloyd cornered her on the deck of the boat, unsure what he could say to her. Part of him wanted to congratulate her on her amazing pact-making, how awesome it was that she could subdue and command an ancient and powerful spirit like Volt, but he knew she wasn't in the mood for a celebration. "I'm sorry about Corinne."

"It's all right, Lloyd."

Lloyd knew it wasn't all right, but he also knew he couldn't really make her feel better. He had never been very good at this sort of thing. "You think it's true? What Undine said about the mana link being severed?"

"I don't know why she'd lie."

"So what do you think we should do? Being the summoner, and all."

Sheena sighed. "I don't know, Lloyd. I really don't. I can't think right now. I'm sorry."

Lloyd thought he might have to wait for her to finish her grieving before they made any plans about the fate of the world. It's funny how personal issues can get in the way of heroism, he thought, somewhat guiltily. He knew that more than once he had put himself and his own feelings first, and he still had plenty of his own issues to work through. Lloyd touched her on the shoulder, briefly, before retreating.

"Sheena. I'm… proud of you. And I'm sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault. You don't need to apologize for it." Lloyd sighed and left her to gaze at the stars. On his way to the bridge, he passed Zelos. He stopped briefly and looked over his shoulder, hoping that the insensitive Chosen wouldn't ruin Sheena's fragile mood. Just to make sure nothing got out of hand, he hid himself, listening in.

"Yo, Sheena. Pull yourself together, candy-ass."

"Shut up, Zelos."

Zelos sat down beside her. "Look. I know it's hard. But I'm sure Corinne wouldn't have wanted you to mope about it. She was more practical than that."

"He."

"What?"

"Corinne's a he."

"Really? With all those frills and bells, I doubt it. Well, whatever. It was a pet, it was probably neutered anyway."

Sheena raised her hand to her mouth and half laughed, half sobbed. "You know, you have an unbelievable skill to say the most inappropriate things at the worst possible times. No matter what, you know exactly what not to say, and then you say it."

"Yeah, but look. It worked. You've stopped crying."

"Only because I'm so appalled."

"Don't sell me short. I know all about grief."

"Yeah? I doubt it."

In a rare display of sincerity, Zelos lost his smile. "Don't tell anyone, but you know those rumors, about my mother?"

Sheena was a little reluctant to answer, but did. "Yeah. I've heard them. Not like I believe them, though."

"Well, they're all true. I was there." He lowered his voice. "Bloody half-breeds and their vendettas…"

"What?"

"Nothing important."

Sheena sighed. "Zelos, I'm sorry, I really am."

"Can it, Sheena. That's not my point. My point is that we're all insects who get smashed sometime or another. All you need to know is that you haven't got it rough, no matter what you think. So you lost someone, everyone has. But you succeeded, and that's something special. I've never succeeded at shit. Sure, I can hold my liquor as good as the next guy, but really, what have I done? Nothing like making a pact."

Sheena stayed silent for a minute, sniffing. "You know, as absurd as you are, you're not a complete asswipe."

"You're a really horrid flatterer, you know," Zelos smiled. "You should really practice more. On me. When you're done moping around about your little pet."

"Oh, piss off, Zelos," Sheena said.

"Goodnight, honey."

"I hope you die in your sleep."

"I'll try. Until morning."

"Yeah. Until then."

* * *

Within the week they had managed to get the Rheiards up and running, locate what Raine told them was their ticket to the other side, and navigate to it. Lloyd wasn't sure what the hell it even was. It just looked like a bunch of rocks to him, but Raine was positively giddy about the whole thing.

"This is it. This is the gate." Raine examined the tall rocks, their unearthly glow, running her hands across the markings. "We need to wait here for another forty-eight hours, and then… it will open."

"How do you know so much about this crap?" Zelos crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't insult me, Zelos. I am a archeological scholar; it's my job to know about… this crap."

Zelos shrugged, not entirely convinced, but he set his things down next to the sleeping Rheiards and began to unpack what seemed to be his exotic liquor collection.

Sheena, who had rarely spoken during the boat ride back to Mizuho, the collection and repair of the Rheiards, and the flight to the gate, opened a bottle with Zelos and they began their nightly imbibing ritual.

Lloyd joined Genis and Raine between two massive pillars, almost tripping over Colette, who, as usual, stood in the middle like a mindless obstruction. Everyone seemed quiet, except for Zelos, who was trying his best to cheer Sheena, and, as usual, most likely failing.

"I'm not so sure whisky is the cure for sadness," Lloyd muttered to Genis, a little worried about Sheena.

"Jeez, Lloyd, haven't you read any of the great poets?" Genis said. "Their entire works are fueled by alcohol."

A hazy recollection of Kvar's book of poetry came to his mind. For some reason, he remembered the poems more clearly than anything else. "Um. I think I've read some. The uh, 'pastoral tradition.' You know, shepherds falling in love and stuff."

"Lloyd, I didn't know you liked poetry." Raine seemed quite pleased with this discovery.

"I don't, really." He wanted to drop the subject before more memories of Kvar came to the surface, and he would have to wrestle with his exsphere again. The key crest had certainly helped, but whenever the Desian lord appeared in his mind, the little stone had a habit of waking up and giving him trouble. "So, how did you find out about this place?"

Raine glanced around one of the gargantuan pillars of stone, to make sure Sheena and Zelos were sufficiently distracted or sufficiently inebriated to not hear her. "My mother's diary. This is where she left us. This is where… she thought we had a better chance in Sylvarant."

"Considering the way they treat half-elves here, she was right," Lloyd said.

Raine looked down at her feet. "She... she'd been planning it for months. She included the gate's location, its description, and even its schedule."

"Schedule?"

"Yes. It has a precise astronomical schedule—the nearest heavenly bodies determine when it opens."

"Oh, yeah. I think I remember my dad mentioning something about a gate that depended on the stars. Everything has to align just right. Or something."

"Precisely. For being stark raving mad, my mother was oddly particular about her diary entries. I just hope that her illness isn't congenital."

"It is," Genis smiled. "Obviously. Look at you."

Raine slapped him upside the head. "If I'm crazy, it's no one's fault but your own. Who wouldn't be, with such an insufferable squirrel of a little brother?"

Lloyd left them to their affectionate bickering, and decided to sit down with Sheena and Zelos, who were lounging in the grass, exchanging gossip about the aristocracy of Meltokio.

"Yeah, well I heard Princess Hilda actually has six toes on one foot," Sheena said.

"No way. Come to think of it, I haven't actually seen her feet. Which is weird, considering I've seen every other part of—oh, hey, Lloyd."

"Hey. You okay?"

"I'm great," Zelos said.

"Not you. Sheena."

"I'm fine, Lloyd. Really. Sit down with us and I'll show you just how well I'm coping." He smiled and sat with them for the evening, listening to their raunchy and amusing stories, until Raine called him over for him to have his usual examination.

"It looks worse today," she said, prodding it gently.

"Yeah."

"Do you know why?" Lloyd thought of Kvar and poetry.

"The pastoral tradition," he said.

"What? Lloyd. Honestly." She pinched his skin and he flinched. "Be serious. Take care of yourself. Have my sleeping tonics been working for you?"

"Yeah, they have." Lloyd's nightmares had died down a little in intensity, and he wasn't waking everyone up anymore. The sheer terror had been replaced by uneasy discomfort, but it was a step in the right direction.

"I'm considering making you a stronger dose, but it's easy to become dependent on it."

"I think I already am."

Raine sighed. "All right, Lloyd. But don't take too much. Just enough to get you sleeping."

"Sure thing, Professor." He stood up to go.

"And Lloyd." Lloyd turned and looked down at her. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you. Perhaps… perhaps if I had more time, and proper equipment…"

"Don't worry about it. You're doing what you can. That's enough."

It wasn't enough, it was never enough. But he couldn't do much about it. No one could. The world had taken its toll on him, and the world was so much more powerful than he was. He wondered if he had done something terribly wrong, violated some incomprehensible and unspoken rule of life, and this was his punishment. He sighed and navigated the pillars to find Colette. Despite the fact that she was a walking reminder of his mistakes, her presence made him feel more at ease.

"You wanna sit down?" he asked her. She only stared into the sky, motionless. "Would you like a drink?" Still no response. "Can I bring you a menu?" Lloyd didn't expect an answer, but he thought that if he could ask her something absurd enough, she would come back to him, if only to double take.

He knew that Colette could hear him, but whether or not she was actually listening was the big question. Still, he spoke to her for hours at a time, walking her through his dreams, memories, fears. Talking made him feel better about everything.

"I thought too much about Kvar today," he told her. He paused for a while. "You know, I've been thinking about a lot of things. These dreams… Kvar isn't giving them to me, my dad isn't, I am. Sometimes I think they're a way for me to punish myself. For everything, you know. Failing you, failing dad, just... failing." He lay down next to her feet and watched the stars turns slowly above. "At least you didn't die. Well, not all the way. Only… only the important parts are gone." He sighed, and looked up at her. She only stared straight ahead, unmoving. "I ate a slug today," he said, hoping that would wake her up.

It didn't, so he just lay at her feet, watching the sky slowly turn around him, waiting for the heavenly bodies to align just right. When they found the dwarf, things would turn around. Yes… later, when the sky was a little brighter, things would definitely turn around. And Colette might forgive him for what he did to her. Later… much later. If she survived. If either of them did.

* * *

They clumsily landed the Rheiards on the edge of a cornfield. Lloyd accidentally clipped a few stalks with the tip of his wing, but he figured whoever owned the field might forgive him.

He changed his mind when the farmer, arms waving, came screaming out of his rickety brown house. He flailed toward them, calling out, "No, no, no, no, no! Get those Desian machines outta my field, now! Land sakes, they'll come lookin' fer 'em and then bam, me and my family, off to the ranch! Take 'em away!"

"These aren't Desian machines," Raine told him calmly.

"You didn't steal 'em, did you?" the farmer asked, skeptical.

"No, of course not. I built them. No Desians involved at all."

"Professor?" Lloyd asked, but Raine seemed to love playing the part of engineer, showing the farmer the different parts of the Rheiards, explaining to him the physical principles of flight until he was confused into complete submission.

"Well, I don't know what the hell yer talkin' about," he said. "But I'm not sure I want yer machines here in my field."

"Not to worry," Raine smiled. "I'll pay you generously. And far in the future, when Sylvaranti flight has reached its golden age, your name will have a special place in the history books."

"You don't say…"

Raine forked over a few hundred gald, which to any poor Sylvaranti farmer would be enough to shut him up.

"Well, I'll take care of 'em," he said numbly. "Just come back for 'em sometime soon."

Raine thanked the farmer again and they were on their way.

"Talk about bumpkin country," Zelos muttered. "Is everyone from Sylvarant like that?" Sheena bopped his ear and he fell to the ground, clutching it and whining. Sheena stopped to stand over him and threaten him while the others marched ahead.

"Jeez, Raine, I didn't know you knew everything about flight," Genis said.

"I don't. But our mother did. It's all there in her diary. She truly has some spectacular appendices regarding her research. Formulas, designs, you name it."

"I wanna read it!" Genis whined, and Raine shushed him.

"Quiet, Genis. It's a secret between you, me, and Lloyd, remember? But for now, you are going to use what you've learned in your differential calculus book to derive your own theoretical formula for flight. It must include gravity, air resistance, and terminal velocity, if applicable."

"All right," Genis grinned at the challenge.

"And Lloyd. You are going to write me a five hundred-word essay about the advantages of flight. And make sure to spell 'flight' correctly."

"Do I have to?" Lloyd sighed.

"I want a rough draft by tomorrow." Raine flashed him her most charming, teacherly grin, and led them toward Iselia.

It was strange being back in Sylvarant after all this time. The air here felt different, almost thinner, than in Tethe'alla. Maybe he was just getting sensitive to the differences between the worlds, now that he was traveling between them so much. The weak air made Lloyd wonder if they had screwed up the Regeneration so badly they jeopardized all of Sylvarant's mana. That would be just like him, botching everything with only the best intentions.

He glanced over at Colette, who walked beside him silently. "This is your hometown, Colette," he said, squeezing her hand. The rickety wooden gates of Iselia stood before them, moss-covered and smelling of rot. The whole town had the scent of rain about it, fresh and sharp. Lloyd breathed it in, feeling as if it were somehow familiar. "Do you remember this place?" he asked Colette, who didn't respond.

"I'm of half a mind to leave her outside the gates," Raine said. "I can't face her father with her in this state."

"Yeah," Genis said. "What will we tell him?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. We'll just go into town and collect some supplies and then we'll be gone."

"I'll stay and watch sweet little Colette for you guys," Zelos said.

"And I'll stay to make sure he doesn't do anything funny," Sheena put in. Lloyd was curious about Iselia, so he decided to follow Raine and Genis inside. Something about the town seemed vaguely familiar, like he'd dreamt about this place before, a long time ago. The quaint houses, the long grass drooping over the dirt streets, the old schoolhouse squatting in the corner of town—he felt he had seen all of this before. Maybe he had been building up an idea of Iselia from Genis and Colette, and finally discovering the hometown of his two friends felt like a homecoming for himself. He kept his strange déjà vu to himself and followed Genis and Raine to their humble, thatched-roof home. A few villagers greeted them, asked about the Regeneration, got vaguely optimistic answers, and went about their daily business.

So, this was where Colette had been born. This was where she was raised, this is where she went to school, this is where she made her first steps, spoke her first words, maybe even had her first kiss. And Lloyd would make sure she didn't return here until she was well again.

He stood outside the siblings' house while they went in to gather some supplies for the trek up the hillside. Raine had told Lloyd that the dwarf lived near the local human ranch, so they would have to give it a wide berth. Lloyd sat at the small pool by the porch and swirled his hands inside. The cool water felt nice on his skin, especially around his left exsphere, where it was red and swollen. The little rock seemed to be getting bigger, despite his best efforts. Lloyd guessed its development was inexorable, even with a key crest on it. It had seen enough suffering to satiate its hunger; the fighting, pain and uncertainty only made it grow bigger by the day. Maybe if Lloyd settled here and became an inconsequential farm boy, the little stone would cease to grow, and he would be able to live a long life. No, even if the exsphere sapped his life, he would continue his struggle. He had an obligation to Colette, and the two worlds… and his dad.

He had been thinking about what his father had said to him in his dreams. He wondered if when Colette was better, he could go find him. He might be able to find Yuan, to ask about his father's whereabouts. Ask whether he was guilty of killing his mother, ask what he had done to piss off Cruxis enough that Yggdrasill himself came down to kidnap him. He decided that after Colette was better, he would leave her here, in Iselia, where she had loved ones, where she belonged, and he would go find Yuan. He would find out the truth, and find his father.

"Lloyd, we're going." Raine and Genis exited the house and began to walk toward the village entrance.

"I made sandwiches," Genis said proudly, "just in case we all get hungry. And here." He grabbed Lloyd's hands and wrapped them with strips of cloth. "If the Desians see your exspheres they might try something funny."

Lloyd let Genis wrap his hands and followed them out of town, to where the others waited.

Sheena and Zelos, to Lloyd's utter confusion, were half-naked, lying motionless, side-by-side. They had draped their shirts over their eyes to keep out the sunlight, or as part of a suicide pact—he couldn't really tell.

"What on earth are you doing?" Lloyd asked.

Sheena removed her obi from her eyes and sat up. "We're seeing who can tan faster. You guys sure took your time."

"We were going to sit around and watch the grass grow," Zelos said, face still muffled under his jacket, "but we figured this would be far more exciting."

"Honestly…" Raine sighed.

"So, Raine, my cool beauty," Zelos said, taking his shirt off his face. "Who wins? Who has the deepest, most golden tan?"

Raine shook her head. "You both look like pasty sea creatures. Neither of you wins."

"I think Sheena probably managed to get a little brown," Genis said helpfully.

"Ha! Pay up, sucker," Sheena tapped Zelos on his pale arm.

"No fair, you were already darker to begin with," he complained, forking over what Lloyd could only discern was a fortune.

"Yeah, well, you knew that when you took me on," Sheena smiled, sticking the money in her bra.

"Are you quite finished?" Raine asked, irritated. "If you haven't noticed, Colette isn't getting any better watching you fool around. And we have a long way to walk."

They planned their route to avoid the local human ranch, so they took the circuitous forest paths miles away from the main road. They didn't speak much on the journey, for fear of being detected by wandering Desian scouts. Fortunately, they didn't encounter any, but their caution had cost them the better part of a day. They didn't reach the dwarf's house until the sun was low in the sky.

Lloyd stopped in his tracks when he saw it. The strange, familiar feeling he had in Iselia retook him, but worse. He couldn't see straight, he put his hand to his forehead, wondering if he had been here before. He filed through his memories, searching, until—

"Lloyd, look out!" Genis yelled. Lloyd gasped at the sudden impact to his chest and was knocked to the ground. He barely had time to take a breath before a giant tongue plastered slobber all over his face.

"Noishe!" he laughed. "Good boy! How did you get here?"

"He arrived with some refugees," came the answer, heavily accented, gruff, but not unkind. Lloyd sat up, pushed Noishe off him, and looked toward the house. A bearded dwarf stood in the doorway, arms crossed. He took a step forward, onto the porch, but stopped.

"Is that… you?" he asked as Lloyd stood up, dusting himself off.

Lloyd looked the dwarf over, tilting his head. "Do I know you?"

"What's your name, kid?"

"Lloyd, why?"

"Oh, dear gods, it is you." Before Lloyd had a chance to protest, or even raise his arms in defense, the dwarf came at him. The small, lean man wrapped Lloyd in his strong arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Lloyd's arms were pinned to his sides, and he wiggled a little, grunting. The dwarf's head only came up to his chest but his grip was inescapable. He looked over at his companions, who raised eyebrows or covered smiling mouths, but didn't offer to help him.

"Who…" Lloyd huffed, lungs crushed. "Who are you?"

The dwarf let him go, and he could breathe again. "Forgive me, Lloyd. You'd better come inside. Your friends can come too, if you want." Lloyd looked over his shoulder at them as the dwarf grabbed his arm and practically dragged him inside the house. He threw him down at the table and thrust the biggest mug of beer he'd ever seen in front of him.

"Let me see those," the dwarf commanded, pulling the protective cloth from Lloyd's hands. When he saw what was beneath, he covered his mouth. "So, they got you too. Just like they got her."

Lloyd looked down at his exspheres, brow furrowed. "Just like her?" he asked.

"Your mother. She… that stone, she died to protect it. And to protect you."

When Lloyd spoke, he barely heard his own voice. This was all going so fast—he couldn't believe this was happening, that perhaps after all this time, this rough, tiny man across from him might be able to give him some answers. "Tell me."

The dwarf looked distraught. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. It's a long story, but I'll start at the beginning. You were a wee lad, probably too little to remember, but I found you, you and your mother, at the base of the cliffs near the human ranch. Just minding my own business, and you and your mum came falling from the sky, like vengeful spirits. I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it, but you came crashing down on me—fate is a strange thing, isn't it? Your mum made sure she hit the ground first, and she broke her back on impact. There's nothing I could do, except listen to her plea. She told me you were Lloyd, she said to take you and hide you, and hide that exsphere you're carrying. Well, about that time I heard some sorta scream from above, and Desians started to fall from the cliffs. I thought the world was going to end, there were so many bodies. When it actually began to rain blood, and I knew I had to get the both of you out of there. You weren't conscious, or if you were, you didn't look it. So I grabbed you and your mum and dragged you as far away as I could. I tried to get away from the ranch, from the fighting, from everything. I thought it was the screaming man that must've pushed her off, must've cut her up—you see, she didn't die of her broken back—she bled out from her wounds. Gods, that yell still haunts me."

Lloyd began to shake. The possibility that his own father had struck his mother down became more and more real as the story progressed. He clenched his fists under the table but stayed silent.

"So I managed to creep back here unnoticed, with you, the stone, and the body of your mother. I didn't know if the Desians would come looking for you, so I tried to hide you as best I could. You were in shock—you barely ate, you didn't sleep, I couldn't wrestle a word out of you. But I kept you close, waiting for the day the Desians came for you, but they're not the ones that showed up when the time came. For the past couple of days I'd been hearing rumors from the people of Iselia that there was a madman on a rampage, wielding a sword of flame. He burnt down every house and village he came across, looking for something but never finding it. Naturally I thought he was a Desian, and that he was looking for you. I was right about one thing.

"When he broke down my door I was the only thing standing between you and him. He said he wouldn't hurt me if I gave you back to him. Now, you can imagine how I felt. Here I had found a bairn with a dead mum a father so violently insane that he had burnt down half the countryside trying to get his son back. I didn't know what sort of life you'd be going back to, but I knew it wasn't good. If the Desians were after your family, then I wasn't giving you back to him if I could help it. And he cut through me like cutting through butter. My axe never touched him, and all I could do was bleed in the corner while he picked you and your exsphere up and carried you right back out the door. Back into that world that killed your mum, that I knew would probably kill you too." The dwarf took a moment to sigh. "So, for years after, every once in a while I would say a prayer for you, ask for your safety, and plead with the old gods, with Martel, with whoever would listen, to deliver you from the life I knew your father would put you through. Now I know I never should've let him take you back, but I couldn't stop him. I wasn't strong enough." He glanced at the malevolent stone on Lloyd's hand. "Now the same bastards who killed your mum are killing you, and I couldn't stop it."

Lloyd was silent for a few moments. "Where is she?" he asked.

"You'd better follow me," the dwarf answered, and stood. He led him out the door and to the side yard. And there she was—nothing more than a gravestone in a shady grove of trees. Lloyd walked up to the grave, slowly, as if in a dream, and when he came to a stop, he lost control of his legs. He fell onto his knees, staring at it, but he couldn't read the epitaph. His vision blurred, he felt light-headed.

Here he was, with her, finally. After a lifetime of searching, here he was. For years, he developed his own theories of her whereabouts—first, when he was a small child, she was simply missing. She was waiting for him at home, wherever that was. Then, he knew she was dead, but not gone. She was in Tethe'alla, land of riches, paradise. Then he had gone there and back, twice, and now, for the first time in his life, he knew for sure his mother was dead and gone completely. He gathered the dirt in his hands and watched it sift through his fingers. Here she was, in Sylvarant this whole time, feeding the ground, the grass, the trees. Lloyd's heart ached, his lungs emptied, he felt as if the contents of his chest had been drained out.

"I'll leave you," the dwarf said, and did.

Lloyd stared at the grave until the sun set completely, and then he stared at it some more. The moon illuminated the stone, but he still couldn't bring himself to read it. Instead, he asked it a question.

"Mum, did he really do it?"

The stone was silent, lit by silver light.

"Did he?" Lloyd yelled before burying his face in his hands. Gods, he had to pull himself together. He couldn't sit here all night, asking questions to a grave. Here he was, crying over someone long dead, when he had an obligation to a girl who was still alive, if only barely. He wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up.

"I know you can't answer that. I'm... sorry I asked. Goodnight," he whispered before shakily walking back into the house.

The sound of a hammer pounding, the smell of fire and molten gold, the heat of the flames, all of it overwhelmed him when he came back inside. The others turned to him, and he was embarrassed by his red eyes and running nose. They didn't seem to care, though.

"Dirk said he can build a key crest for Colette," Genis said.

"Aye," the dwarf said, bringing a small hammer down on a thin strip of gold. "You aren't the first ones to come here looking for key crests. Refugees from the Asgard ranch were here, dozens of 'em. I've made more of these in the past few months than ever before."

"But this one is different," Lloyd told him. "It's for a Cruxis Crystal."

"Aye, I know. But the fundamental idea is the same." He brought the hammer down again. "I'll have to work for this poor girl all night, though."

"I'll help," Lloyd said.

"You sure?" the dwarf asked. "There isn't much a human can do."

"I'll do it."

"All right. Hmm… there are a few parts that don't require runes. First, I need you to weave this silver wire as mesh for a backing for the crystal. You have thin fingers, you'll be better at it than me." The dwarf stopped his work to show Lloyd what to do. "Now, you just take this wire, twist it around like this. And then you feed the other end through like this, and loop it around again…"

* * *

"…And then you poke the thread through the needle. Easy." Kratos sat in front of the fire, stitching up a hole in Lloyd's only pair of pants. Lloyd watched, bored, as his father tried to teach him how to repair his own clothing. He must've been about five, always muddy, always playing, and always tearing holes in his clothes. His eyes followed the needle in, out, in, out, and in again, and the rip slowly shrank.

"The hardest part is getting the knot at the right place," his father said.

"I thought the hardest part was threading the needle."

"That's the other hardest part." Kratos bit the thread and pulled, breaking it. "There. Don't go wrecking your clothes again."

Lloyd took the pants from him, looking them over. They looked like new. "Didn't mum used to do this?"

His father sighed. "She was never very good at this sort of thing."

"What was she good at?"

"Well…" his father stared into the fire. "She could always make me laugh. And she was the liveliest dancer I've ever met. I couldn't keep up with her."

"What else?" Lloyd asked, scooting closer.

"She was brave, and adventurous. She could speak several languages."

"And?"

"And… she could sing. She always sang. She would sing you to sleep every night. She could play cards like no other. And she was a good mother. She could… she was…"

"Dad?" Lloyd said, crawling into his lap. This was the first time his father had spoken about his mother at such length—he didn't want the conversation to end. But it had to, since when he looked up into his father's face he saw that he was crying. Kratos was silent and dignified, as always, but still weeping. Lloyd lay his head on his father's chest, feeling strong arms wrap around him. He could hear his father's heartbeat, agonizingly slow, but still comforting, and he closed his eyes.

That was the only time he had ever seen his father cry.


	20. Back Again

Botta crouched in the dirt, flanked by his two best operatives. They sat in the shadow of an oak tree, silent and vigilant. The two underlings watched the forest with keen eyes while Botta typed furiously into his communicator.

_They sought help from a Sylvaranti dwarf. Success seems likely but not guaranteed. _

Botta waited a few moments for the reply, cursing the tiny device, wishing Yuan could just give up the gadgets for about five minutes and let Botta have free reign to do his dirty work for him.

_Good. One step away from Regeneration.__ Leave them be. Any signs of Pronyma?_

_Too many. Sure it's her. 100%. Not sure if alone. Engage?_

_No. Not unless it's absolutely unavoidable. Does it look like she'll go after the Chosen?_

_Doesn't seem eager. Strange. Perfect time for her to attack._

_Keep an eye on them. I suspect if Pronyma is lurking but not acting, she either has something up her sleeve or a mole in the party. Not sure which is worse. Be cautious._

Of course Botta would be cautious. He hadn't survived thus far by being otherwise. Imprudent enemies of Cruxis didn't live very long, and every Renegade had learned that lesson within the first month or so. If you survived the first few weeks, chances are you'd survive a little longer. Botta squinted at the little screen as he slowly typed: _We found the Rheiards. _He punched in the coordinates and waited for a reply.

_Good. Keep an eye on everything until I get there. I will arrive shortly._ _You will then return to the base._

Botta wasn't sure that was a good idea, and told Yuan as much. Being the subordinate officer, he exactly couldn't stop Yuan from doing what he wanted. But he had the nagging suspicion that Pronyma knew he was here, that she was spying on him as much as she was spying on the Chosen. He couldn't describe it, but he had this uneasy feeling in his gut that something was about to go very wrong.

* * *

"It's finished," Lloyd said, more to himself than anyone else. The morning light slipped in through the dusty windows like a thief, and Lloyd was exhausted. Dirk clapped him on the back with sooty hands.

"You did pretty well," he said. "I think this should do the trick."

Zelos and Sheena yawned themselves awake. "Is it breakfast yet?" Zelos asked, stretching.

"No, you idiot, they finished the key crest," Sheena replied.

Lloyd approached Colette, who, of course, hadn't slept all night. He turned the key crest over in his hand, examining it. It looked pretty good in his opinion, but he wasn't the right person to ask. As long as Dirk thought it would work, that was good enough for him. He smiled and reached out to Colette, laying a hand on her Cruxis Crystal. She didn't respond. He slipped the key crest on her and stepped back, not sure what to expect.

Nothing happened. Her eyes stared straight through him, dull and empty.

"Co… Colette?" he said. "Please wake up."

She didn't.

Lloyd squeezed her arms. "Please."

They all stared at her, waiting, but nothing happened.

"Well, we weren't sure if it would work to begin with…" was all Genis could say.

Lloyd sighed. "Then we'll just try again. We'll use different materials, we'll make it a different shape—we'll do what it takes to cure her."

"And what about you, Lloyd?" Dirk asked. "What are you going to do about that exsphere they put on you?"

Lloyd held up his hand to the dwarf. "I already have a key crest."

"Aye. An ugly, useless thing."

"Ouch," Zelos muttered. "I thought that one looked good."

"Yeah, well, your taste isn't exactly the height of class," Sheena said, and he elbowed her in the sternum. "Oof."

"Look, Lloyd," Dirk said. "We'll wait. Sometimes they take a while to take effect. In the meantime, I'll make you a key crest."

Lloyd nodded. "Thank you."

"Stay here as long as you like. I don't have much room, but there's plenty of food and you're welcome to it."

"Well, we can't exactly return to the village with Colette as she is," Raine said.

"I can whip something up from whatever you've got," Genis said. "We'll stick around till Colette's better."

"All right," Lloyd yawned. "Thanks, guys." He sat against the wall, exhausted, lowered his head, and passed out.

His dreams were soft, full of dusty light, with no fathers present, no torture, no hatred. Just a muggy undertone of loneliness against a backdrop of ancient, yellow light. The only things he saw were confusing flashes of greenish scales, a swish of yellow hair, disconnected shapes, all hazy.

He awoke sometime in the afternoon, hungry as all hell. He put one hand to his rumbling stomach and rubbed his eyes with the other. Genis was at the stove, stirring some spices into a pot that he could've easily fallen into. Lloyd got up, enticed by the smell wafting from the enormous stewpot.

"It'll be ready in a half an hour," Genis said, not taking his eyes from the soup.

"Thanks, Genis," Lloyd said, stretched, and walked out into the hot air. He kicked off his boots and sat on the front porch, yawning. Noishe crept up to him and nuzzled his hand, so he stroked the dog's soft ears. The dog was obviously happy to see him, and he seemed to be in a much better state than the last time they met. He looked well-fed, happy, lazy. Lloyd always knew Noishe had the potential to be a fat old couch potato, but nomadic life with Kratos prevented him from living up to his true sluggish potential. Maybe he would be happier with Dirk, watching the trees rustle and the sun make its rounds, having no responsibilities. Lloyd would love to live a life like that with Noishe, settling down in the middle of nowhere, maybe having a few animals.

He immediately thought of Kvar, and the poem about the shepherd lovers. He grit his teeth and discarded his pastoral fantasy immediately. No, he couldn't live that life, at least not yet. There were so many things wrong with the world already, he couldn't just run away and give up. And even if he couldn't fix all the world's problems, he could try.

Dirk sat down next to him. "So," he said. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"Good."

Lloyd looked at the back of his hands, at his exsphere, and his mother's. The right glowed a benevolent blue, filling his hand with a cool, soft, water-like feeling. The left seemed to swallow all light, barely reflecting a weak, bloodied red. The skin around it was swollen and veiny, and seemed to get worse every day, like an infection spreading up his arm.

"How much time to you think I have left?" Lloyd asked the dwarf.

"You'll have a lot more once I make a proper key crest for it."

Lloyd lowered his hands. He didn't want to look at them right now—the rock that stole his mother's life, and the rock that was going to steal his.

The dwarf sat next to him, silent for a few moments, before asking, "Where's your father now, lad?"

"I don't know. He went missing. I'm looking for him now."

"Gods, boy, why do you want to find him? Just look what he's put you through."

Lloyd sighed. It's not like he could've just run away from his dad whenever it got rough. It's not like he could've come back to Dirk, even if he had wanted to. His father would've tracked him down, found him, taken him back, just like he did when he was little. Lloyd thought it was cheerlessly poetic that after all these years he was the one tracking down Kratos. He was getting him back for all those times he had wandered off himself, only to be found and disciplined.

"Lloyd," Dirk said. "When you find him, give him a good hard punch for me. For all the harm he's done you."

Lloyd nodded. He wouldn't mind punishing his father, just a little bit, for going missing. He didn't want to think about what he would do to him if he found out for sure if he had killed his mother. A big part of Lloyd wanted to disbelieve Kvar, so for now, he would follow that part. It might be the only thing keeping him from destroying his father once he found him.

"Lunch is ready!" Genis called from inside the house. The warm smell of spicy soup wafted from the window, making Lloyd's stomach rumble.

"Go on, eat," Dirk said. "I'll start your key crest."

Lloyd rested that day, ate his fill, and sat around. Dirk refused to let him help with his own key crest, since apparently it was "bad luck to make your own, besides, you've done enough work already, and..." a plethora of excuses that Lloyd couldn't remember. He wondered if he had messed up Colette's crest so badly that Dirk refused to let him help make the second one. His heart sank a little at the thought, but he let Dirk do his job, and instead occupied himself in other ways.

For most of the evening Lloyd sat across from his mother's grave, catching up. He told her about Colette and the Regeneration. He told her about school, about his travels, about his friends, about the ranch, Kvar, Yggdrasill. He told her about his father, his dreams, his fears, and his failures.

He took out his father's locket, looked at it, and set it on her grave. "You know, the worst part is that I never could remember what you looked like. If I didn't already know it was you in that picture, I wouldn't have recognized you. I can't remember anything. Not your face, your voice, you smell, anything. I'm sorry, I really am."

He hung his head. He watched a beetle crawl carefully through the thin grass by his knee. He thought about smashing it, then decided not to. Not while his mother was watching. Instead he examined it as it struggled to overcome a mound of dirt, legs wiggling uselessly. "You and me both, buddy," Lloyd muttered as he reached down and wrapped his fingers gently around it. Its beautiful carapace glinted in the grey afternoon light, and after admiring it for a moment, he set it down the other side of the dirt mound, which to the bug must've seemed like an unscalable mountain. He stared as it crawled away, thoughtless and voiceless, unaware of Lloyd's benevolent guardianship.

He was just thinking about the inner lives of the beetles when a hand gently pressed his shoulder. He froze. Something primal inside him told him that it was his mother's ghost, and that if he turned and looked, it would vanish into the air. He slowly moved his hand up to touch the fingers around his shoulder. They were real. He stood up slowly and turned around.

Colette smiled at him, her eyes glinting. He was taken aback for a moment to see her return to her old self, so different from the lifeless body he had grown accustomed to regarding as "Colette." She opened her arms, radiant and vivacious, and Lloyd fell into them. Her embrace was so forgiving, so natural that it almost felt like falling into the arms of some sort of goddess. He squeezed her tight and buried his face into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he cried.

"Thank you for the key crest," she said, squeezing him back.

"I'm so sorry," was all he could say.

She waited a moment before replying, "Stop apologizing, you dork."

He laughed and released her from his iron hug. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great, Lloyd. Thanks to you. And Dirk. If it weren't for you, I'd… well, I would be a lot worse off than I am now."

"Do you remember everything? From when you were… you know."

"Yes, everything. I saw everything, heard everything, but I couldn't say or do anything. It hurt, it really did, being in a body that didn't seem like mine. I felt so helpless. And I wasn't of much help to you, either. I've been nothing but a pain, really."

"You're only a pain when you put yourself down like that," Lloyd said. "But you're fine now, right? Is everything okay up there?" He knocked on Colette's forehead like a door.

She giggled. "Yup. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm _starving_."

That night they robbed Dirk of every drop of beer he had. Genis whipped up something that looked like mush but tasted like paradise, and they all sat squished around Dirk's low table, celebrating Colette's mental homecoming. The Chosen in question sought Lloyd's hand under the table and squeezed it while she stuffed her face with the other. Damn, she wasn't kidding when she said she was hungry. Lloyd smiled when he realized that she was just as messy of an eater as he was. Come to think of it, he'd never actually seen her eat.

Lloyd was busy savoring this somewhat mundane revelation when Zelos and Sheena decided it would be a good idea to try and convince them all to play a drinking game.

"Okay," Sheena said, leaning over the table like she had serious business to discuss. "Here's a classic game from Flanoir. But we have to go outside. Which should be fine, since it's still warm out."

"We'll have to light the lanterns," Dirk said, scooting away from the table.

Sheena explained the game as she poked around Dirk's house, looking for tools. "First of all, we need a stump. Shouldn't be too hard, given this is a forest and all. Then we need… aha. A hammer."

"This sounds dangerous," Genis said dubiously.

"You can't play anyway," Raine replied. "You're too young and you have schoolwork."

"Raine, seriously? Even after Colette's back? And Lloyd has just as much work as I do." She shut him up with a bop on the ear. "Ow!"

"Don't worry, miss," Dirk laughed. "I'll keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets all his work done." Raine didn't see the dwarf send a wink in her little brother's direction.

"Would you? That would be so nice," she said. Genis pretended to give in reluctantly, sure that Dirk was at least going to let him try a little beer tonight.

Sheena seemed to have collected all the supplies for the game and led them outside. Dirk lit the outdoor lamps while she explained the rules. "Here I have a hammer. And here is a nail. And here is a stump." They all nodded. "Each of you has a nail." She turned to the stump and hammered one in about a quarter of an inch. "So, I go all the way around and put in six. Dirk, are you playing?" The dwarf shook his head. "Okay, five. When you have the hammer, you get one swing. One swing, Zelos." He looked over his shoulder as if he was sure she meant to address someone behind him. "Whoever gets his or her nail all the way in first wins. Unless you strike your nail all the way in the first time, you have to drink. Every time you screw up, you have to drink. Mostly," she raised her beer, "you just drink."

"Sounds fine to me," Lloyd said, glancing over at Colette. He didn't know if she shared Zelos' and Sheena's bad habits, but he thought that since she was the Chosen and all, she should be allowed to. Goddess knows she needed a drink after her whole ordeal. She only smiled back at him and they began the game.

Lloyd went first and only got it in a quarter of the way. He drank. Then Sheena went, who missed entirely, and drank. Then Raine, who hit it but didn't manage to get it all the way in, and drank. Then Zelos, who bent his so out of shape it didn't look like it would ever live to be straight again.

"Good job," Lloyd laughed.

"Hey, you little twerp," Zelos said, raising the hammer. "It was a better shot than yours."

"Oh yeah?" Lloyd couldn't help puffing out his chest a little. "At least mine's not all floppy."

Zelos scrunched up his face and locked glares with him, and for a second he thought he might just get hit with that hammer.

"Good gods, you two, just kiss already," Sheena said, and Raine burst out laughing. She quickly covered her mouth and cleared her throat, excusing herself. But she was still smiling when she raised her beer to her lips.

"Colette, honey, you're next," Zelos said, handing her the hammer. She gripped it timidly and approached the stump, frowning.

"So do I just… like this?" she raised the hammer above her head.

"Sure, just try to hit your nail," Sheena told her.

"Um. Okay." When Colette brought down the hammer, a massive crack tore through the air. Zelos instinctively covered his face, Sheena flinched, and Lloyd stared at Colette, who backed off as if she'd done something awful. The stump had split in half, the hammer and nail buried deep inside of it.

"Oh no," Colette said. "I'm sorry, I ruined it." She reached down and wrenched the hammer from the stump's splintered corpse, looking it over.

Zelos blinked slowly. "Well, honey, I guess you just don't know your own strength."

Raine smiled thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should play a different game."

"Oh, okay," Sheena said, recovering from her shock at Colette's display of uncanny strength. "I know this one game from Mizuho. It's usually done with sake, but since we have none, beer will have to do. First, everyone stands in a circle, and then one of us gets blindfolded…"


	21. Iselia

"Here you go, Lloyd," Dirk put a piece of metal in Lloyd's hand and closed his fingers around it. The dwarf stood there for a moment, looking at Lloyd's small human hand in his giant one. He sighed and let go. "Take care of yourself."

Lloyd smiled. "I will."

"C'mere." The dwarf wrapped his arms around him and squeezed the air out of him. "I wish I could've given you a better life than you had. But when you're done with all your drama, you're always welcome here. There aren't any other dwarves around here, so I wouldn't mind being stuck with a human apprentice, if you're interested."

Lloyd smiled. "Maybe. When this is all over I'll definitely at least come back and visit."

"I wish you luck."

"Thanks."

Lloyd almost regretted leaving the dwarf's little house and getting back on the road. He'd wanted to take Noishe with him, but he didn't know how the poor animal would handle the Rheiard rides. Besides, Dirk had said he had been enjoying Noishe's company for months and was happy to take care of him.

Before they left, Lloyd removed his expensive Tethe'allan key crest and put it in his pocket. He flipped Dirk's project in his fingers, looking it over, the impeccable craftsmanship, the pleasing shape, the gilded curves shining gold in the light. He wished he had been able to make something like this, something so beautiful, so functional. Instead he only knew how to swing a sword. Well, he was tired of wrecking things. When he was done with all this, he would go back to Dirk and accept that apprenticeship. If he lived long enough.

The skin around his exsphere was greenish and flaking, and burned slightly. He tried not to look too hard at the stone as he placed Dirk's key crest over it and snapped it in place. The key crest pinched his skin, but he could ignore the pain. It felt so much tighter, much more secure than his previous crest—it almost felt like he didn't have an exsphere at all on that hand. He chalked it up to the dwarf's exemplary craftsmanship. But even though the pain had mostly receded, he still had that unnerving discoloration, and it didn't look like it was done spreading. He would have to keep an eye on it.

With Colette back to normal and Lloyd graced with a little more time to live, they would have to decide what course to take next. It was mostly up to Sheena, however, since she was their summoner. Whether it was starting the long process of making pacts, or something else, something a little less ambitious, they would still have to recover the Rheiards.

Again, to avoid the ranch, they took the long way back to Iselia. Lloyd knew it would take a few hours, so he prepared to lose himself in thought on the trip. Raine, however, wasn't quite ready to let him do that.

"Lloyd," she said, falling in step beside him. She spoke quietly, as if she were about to tell him a secret. "Your hand has… changed. How does it feel?"

"It actually feels... fine," he said. "Weirdly."

"Well, please allow me to continue examining it. If you don't mind."

"Of course."

"Let me know if anything changes. Immediately."

"I will. And Raine?" Lloyd looked over his shoulder to make sure Colette was far enough away. "What about her? Have you figured it out yet?"

Raine pursed her lips. "Unfortunately I think I have. I've been scouring texts to find out a cure."

"Well, what is it? What does she have?"

"She has... she's suffering from a gradual paralytic petrifaction caused, I think, by her Cruxis Crystal."

"What the hell does that mean?" Lloyd said, perhaps a little too loudly.

"I don't know yet. Some of my books have mentioned it, only briefly. Angelus Crystalus Inofficium."

Lloyd almost flinched at the name. "It sounds serious."

"It can be. But I've read that there is a cure. It requires a unicorn horn, which I happen to have stashed away. So we're at least party there. I'll do some more reading when we get to Iselia."

When they reached the village, some of the townspeople came out to greet Colette. Men and women embraced her, children ran around her legs, and she gave them her most benevolent smile. They asked her about the Regeneration, and Colette answered in the most benignly vague ways, saying it was in progress, not to worry, everything was going fine. Lloyd watched her closely, realizing that things like pacifying a crowd, absorbing their joy, their blame, their excitement, was a skill Colette must've taken years to hone. No wonder she had been allowed to neglect her schoolwork—she had much more important things to learn.

Lloyd followed Raine and Genis to their house and settled down on their floor. Genis took his usual place at the stove, and Raine took hers between the covers of a gargantuan book. Lloyd unpacked his things and made himself a nest on their floor, where he sat staring at his two exspheres. He had regretted leaving his mother there in the cold ground, but he had this piece of her, at least. This, and the little locket. Maybe, after Lloyd found his dad, he would return these treasures to him. He wouldn't have much use for them when he was dead. Especially if his mother were waiting for him on the other side. Lloyd vowed to himself that after his exsphere killed him, he would make sure it would protect someone close to him, like hers had. Perhaps he would give it to Colette.

He toyed with the thought all evening, and it made him feel a little better about his steadily nearing end. After dinner, he decided to take a walk around town. Zelos and Sheena, who had decided to set up camp in the vacant schoolhouse, were dangling from the roof, trying to acrobatically outdo one another.

"All right, Lloyd," Sheena called down to him when she saw him. "Tell us who does the back flip better." She squatted against the wall, pushed off, traced a beautiful arc through the night air and landed squarely on her feet.

Zelos frowned at her, trying to keep his balance on the rooftop.

"I don't think you should try that," Lloyd warned him.

"Can't compete with ninjutsu," she taunted.

"Whatever, honey. You just watch." Sheena did, eyes bright, as Zelos sailed off the building, wobbling precariously in the air, and crashed into a rose bush. Before Sheena and Lloyd could move to help him, he sprang from the bush, a few thorns embedded in his cheek. "I swear, why do we only do things you're good at? If this were a beauty contest, I'd be wiping the floor with you."

"Not anymore you wouldn't. You've got some schmutz on your face." Zelos' hand moved up to his cheek, brushed the thorns, and he flinched. Sheena laughed. "I'll help you with that."

"No way. This is _my_ precious face," Zelos scrambled backwards. "I'll do it myself."

Lloyd watched Sheena chase Zelos behind the schoolhouse and was left alone. He smiled to himself and kept walking, past the school, past abodes and barns, until he came to a house whose front window gave off a glow so warm he had to stop and bask in it. He stared through the window, and saw three faces: one was an old woman, wizened and brown, one belonged to Colette, and one belonged to what Lloyd thought must be her father. They shared the same golden hair, the same kind face, and he couldn't help but stare at them as they ate and talked and laughed. Lloyd thought he looked like he was a good father, at least on the surface. But Lloyd didn't have much experience with good fathers, so he could very well be mistaken.

Colette, mid-laugh, turned her head toward the window and locked eyes with him. She smiled, he waved timidly. She leaned over the table, passed some food to her father, said something to him, and got up. Lloyd watched the front door creak open, and Colette came out, smiling, wiping her mouth.

"Hello, Lloyd," she said.

"I don't want to interrupt," he said.

"You're not. I was just done." She took his arm and led him down the street. "How do you like Iselia? I know this town isn't very impressive, but it's home."

"I think it's nice. It must be hard having the ranch right there, though."

"We have a treaty with them. They leave us alone, for the most part."

That must be wonderful, not having to constantly worry about raids, kidnappings, violence, ranch taxes. He briefly wondered how the refugees from the Asgard ranch were doing.

"Colette," he started.

"Yes?" she looked over at him, her hair shining in the dim light.

"When we go to get the Rheiards, I... I want you to stay here."

"Lloyd…" she muttered, visibly disappointed.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he said. "Here, you have a family, you're safe. You should wait for us to return."

"I can't, Lloyd. Don't you remember? I'm supposed to be on my quest of Regeneration. I can't just give up and stay here."

"But I don't know what will happen—"

She stared him down until he shut his mouth. "Please don't make me stay here, Lloyd. I want to be with you. And I can take care of myself. We both know it."

"But—"

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked, upset.

He was suddenly reminded of the first time his father had abandoned him at the Palmacosta academy. He had desperately wanted to stay with his dad, to be at least a little bit of a family, but for his own safety he was left alone and trapped at that school. His heart sank when he realized what he was trying to do to Colette. Since when did he become the kind of man who would lock people away with the excuse that it was for their own good? He would be damned before he turned into the kind of tyrant that Kratos had been.

"I'm not," Lloyd gave in. "If you want to come, you should. I'm sorry. I was just worried about you. You're your own person and you can do what you want. But if you get yourself hurt, I'll be really mad at you."

She smiled. "I understand, I really do, but what would the village think if their savior gave up and came home? What if she abandoned the world for her own safety? No, Lloyd. I can't be safe, I can't stay home, not until Sylvarant is saved. I don't know how we'll do it, but we will. And then we can come back here, together."

"I'd like that," he said.

She pecked his cheek. "I should go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Lloyd."

"See you." He watched her go, cheek tingling, and when she disappeared around the corner, he stared at her footprints in the dirt.

He turned around and headed back to Raine and Genis' house, but stopped by the pool to dangle his feet inside. He was secretly glad he had failed to convince Colette to stay in Iselia. A part of him longed for her company, but a bigger part of him desired not to turn into his father.

* * *

It wasn't until a few years after Kratos had sent him away to Palmacosta things turned sour between them. When Lloyd entered his teen years, that was the beginning of the end.

It wasn't so much that Lloyd didn't do well at school. No, if his father were a normal parent, that sort of thing would matter. What seemed to bother Kratos most was that Lloyd had any sense of identity, any mind of his own, any backbone at all. When he heard that his son had been wandering off during classes, or leaving the academy without supervision, or doing anything at all without explicit permission, that's what upset him. His father seemed to make it his mission to stifle any excitement or curiosity about anything even remotely interesting. Or risky. His father seemed to think everything was risky.

By the time Lloyd was fourteen, and his father had picked him up for the summer holiday, he was tired of hearing the usual "No"s, "Stay here"s and "It's too dangerous"es. He was tired of getting endless commands but no suggestions, limitless orders but no conversation. He was tired of following his father wordlessly, head down, ever-obedient, tired of having any of his own ideas shot down, of having his own thoughts and inquiries discouraged. But there was nothing he could do, except fall in line behind his father. There was nowhere for him to go, no family he could run to, no place his father wouldn't be able to find him. So he shut his mouth and followed, keeping to himself.

That summer it was especially hot. Lloyd was relieved when his dad said they would be going into the mountains, toward the coast. Lloyd was eager to escape the wet, lowland heat and the countless mosquitoes. He, his father, and the ever-loyal Noishe made their way up into the mountains, what for, Lloyd wasn't sure, but he was happy for the cool, dry air. The only problem with this trip was that it brought them within a few miles of the Palmacosta human ranch, so his dad, who was normally jittery, went absolutely insane with panic.

Lloyd couldn't even go for a piss by himself without his father hovering, scouring the distance for any sign of danger. Lloyd spent the majority of his time rolling his eyes and complaining to Noishe. He knew his father, whose ears were already sharp, could probably hear him mumbling to the dog, but chose to ignore him. He only walked ahead silently, hand ever-present on his sword hilt, as if he were expecting something to jump out at him any minute.

When they settled down that night to rest, Kratos refused to let him build a fire, so he ate hard bread and old cheese, wishing desperately he could wash it down with some hot tea.

"You know, dad," he said quietly, "you don't have to freak out all the time. The Desians aren't going to look in their own backyard for slaves. They usually go to Palmacosta."

"You know nothing about it, Lloyd," his father said, eyeing the trees suspiciously. "You don't think they patrol for escapees?"

Lloyd shrugged. All these years of wandering the wilderness with his dad, he met very few Desians in a place as deserted as this. No, Desians went for more populated areas, where the human harvest was so much better. Lloyd leaned back on a fallen log, munching on his pathetic dinner, crossed his legs and counted the ants by his feet.

Suddenly his father's head whipped around, like a deer hearing a twig crack, and he walked to the edge of their camp. Lloyd sat up, curious, but he hadn't heard anything. Noishe lowered his head and growled deeply, and Kratos slowly drew his sword, trying to keep its metallic ring to a minimum.

"What is it?" Lloyd asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"Be quiet and stay here," his father said, without taking his eyes off the forest. Then he walked off into the shadowy trees, Noishe close behind, hackles raised. Lloyd wanted to follow them, but stayed put, afraid to move. He sat still, barely breathing, listening intently. He heard nothing from the trees into which his father disappeared, but from the opposite direction, he heard leaves crunching, footsteps, and after a full minute, muffled yelling.

He got up. He didn't have a weapon, but whatever was out there was going to find him soon anyway. He might as well know what he was up against, so he crept as silently as he could through the undergrowth, ears perked, eyes scanning. He held his breath, trying to stay low, to stay quiet, and only crawled for a short while before he came upon what had made the noise.

Only a few feet away, in a small clearing, a man struggled to his feet. He was skin and bone, dressed in rags, bloodied and bruised. Two Desians stood by him, taking turns insulting him, striking him, daring him to try to escape. He darted back and forth between his two attackers, looking for an exit. The whole scene reminded Lloyd of two cats he had seen at the Palmacostan harbor, taking turns toying with an dying fish. When he was a kid he had failed to save that fish, but the poor man flopping helplessly between these two Desians… he still had time to help him.

Almost unconsciously, he reached toward his feet. His fingers closed around a heavy stone, and he slowly stood up. The Desians, laughing and distracted, did not see him stand, wind his arm up and chuck the rock as hard as he could. It flew through the air and hit one of the Desians' heads with a satisfying thump. The half-elf dropped to the ground, and his partner immediately looked to where Lloyd stood, now empty-handed.

Be brave, he told himself. Be brave. But he was shaking, his legs itching to run.

"Who the hell are you?" the Desian bellowed, making for him. The prisoner froze up, wide eyes locked with Lloyd's. Run, he thought. Run, you idiot. Before Lloyd could reach down and pick up another rock to defend himself, the Desian grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the center of the clearing. He threw him down on the dirt.

Lloyd rolled, pushing himself up and placing himself between the Desian and the prisoner. He raised his arms, making fists and telling himself to swing, just swing, fight, survive.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" the Desian said, brandishing his whip. Lloyd hid his face behind his raised forearms, waiting for the stinging blow.

Instead he heard a low growl and saw a flash of blue hair. Noishe sprang from the bushes and clamped his teeth around the Desian's shoulder. He screamed, fell to his knees, dropped his weapon and tried to pry the dog from him. Lloyd froze, shocked. He had never seen Noishe do anything like this—the animal was usually so docile, even fearful. He took a step back from this new, frightening Noishe, and bumped into his father.

He was pushed aside, into the brush, and scrambled to sit up. Noishe released the Desian only for Kratos to drive his sword through him. The second Desian, now wobbling to his feet, holding his head, didn't have time to draw his sword before his throat was cut. Lloyd's father then turned on the prisoner.

"No, wait!" Lloyd called.

His father, as usual, ignored him. He stepped toward the prisoner, who raised his hands in supplication, begging for his life. Kratos cut it mercifully short by stabbing him through the heart.

Lloyd fell to his knees, seeing the man he had meant to save get cut down by his own father. He clenched his fists. "He didn't do anything wrong," he whispered.

Kratos turned. "He saw us."

Lloyd was pulled to his feet by his collar and dragged into the forest, Noishe following closely behind. Lloyd struggled against his father's firm grip, stumbling after him, protesting.

"Put me down! You killed him, you killed him for no reason! You're a murderer!" At this comment, Kratos spun him around and smacked him in the cheek. Lloyd stumbled back, stunned, raising a hand to his stinging skin, and his father hit him again. He felt a fist bury itself in his stomach, and he doubled over, coughing. Another strike to his back, then another to his head, and he was on the ground, swiftly losing consciousness.

Darkness crept in at the edge of his vision and he felt himself being picked up. He couldn't see anything, his face stung, he couldn't breathe. Something like wind rustled his hair, and he felt cold all of a sudden. His body felt light, too light, but he couldn't get up, couldn't find ground, and he slipped into sleep.

When he woke up, his face hurt like hell. He rolled to his side and pushed himself up onto his knees. He was at the mouth of a cave, lying next to a small fire. He blinked, confused. Where was the forest, the ranch, the bodies of the men his father had killed?

He sat up and stretched, wincing at the pain. He saw his father squatting at the fire, feeding it sticks.

"Where are we?" he asked. He realized his father must've carried him here. Him, the packs, everything.

"Don't get up," his father said, not taking his eyes from the fire. "You need rest."

Lloyd had to know where he was. He threw his ratty blanket off him and stood, stretching his sore legs. "Like hell. Where are we? What did you do with the bodies?" He took a step toward his dad.

Kratos stood to meet him. He towered over him, intimidating and angry. "Don't you ever, _ever_ do anything like that again, Lloyd. Do you hear me?"

Lloyd felt blood rush to his face. "Why? Because it was the right thing to do?"

"Because you could've been killed! Or worse."

Lloyd didn't want to imagine what could be worse than having a sword driven through your heart, right when you thought you'd escaped your captors. There weren't many things worse than what Kratos did to that man.

"Whatever," Lloyd said, turning away.

"Look at me, Lloyd. Lloyd!"

Without thinking, he made his way to the edge of the forest, his father following, calling his name. He couldn't look at him, couldn't be near him, not this bloodstained bastard, he had to run, to get away… He started to sprint, jumping over underbrush, trying to disappear into the green, to become nothing, to fly away. But he couldn't—his father was right there, catching up, swinging his arm out and grabbing Lloyd by the back of the shirt. He struggled, stumbling forward, and landed on his face in the dirt. His father grabbed his ankles, turned him over, and dragged him back to camp. He tried to kick and fight, but he was too weak, his muscles too sore. He allowed himself to be hauled back to the fire.

"I swear to all gods above, Lloyd, I will tie you down if need be," his father spouted, furious. "You're behaving like a dog—worse than a dog—even Noishe doesn't need a leash like you do."

Lloyd, now exhausted of his usual defenses, decided to get out the big guns. "I wonder what mum would think if she saw you smack your kid around? Did you hit her too?"

Kratos froze and turned slowly on him. Lloyd knew he was in for it now, but didn't care. He almost smiled, knowing he had already struck the finishing blow. He could see his father clench his teeth, tightening his fists. He was beet red, arms shaking, trying desperately to hold himself back.

He managed to control himself only a few seconds before he dragged Lloyd up by the collar and slammed him against the nearest tree. Lloyd could tell he was trying his best not to break his neck, not to wrap his hands around his windpipe and choke the life from him. For a moment, he thought he might die here, at the hands of his own father, hands that had killed so many others before him.

This was the first time he had seen his father completely lose control, and a tiny, undeniably sick part of him felt a strange sort of elation. He was pretty sure he was the only person on earth who could aggravate Kratos to this degree, and that was the only power he had over the normally stoic, seemingly invincible man. It was a perverse kind of power, Lloyd knew, but when his father grabbed his face and knocked his head against the tree trunk, his heart skipped a beat with something that may have resembled triumph.

When his vision cleared and his eyes opened, he was already sitting up. He tried to move his arms, tried to get up, but couldn't. He looked around, glancing at the cave, the fire, but his father was nowhere in sight. He looked himself over and found that he was tied to a tree. Good gods, he thought. The bastard really did it.

He sighed. He wondered if anyone would come across him here, tied up, and free him. He knew that was unlikely, so he thought about yelling for assistance to any passers-by that might be making the trek through the mountains. He decided he might as well not; he didn't want his father to hear him calling for help. So he sat there, bored and sore, watching the fire lick at the darkening sky. After an hour or so, his father returned, followed closely by Noishe. He carried what looked to be the bloodied body of a rabbit with him. He didn't look at Lloyd, didn't greet him, just slapped the dead animal down on a flat rock and skinned it.

Lloyd watched because there was nothing better to do, but he didn't speak. He vowed he would never speak to his father again, after what happened. He only stared at the fire, at his father's bloody hands cutting the meat from the rabbit's bones, at the pot boiling over the flames. He watched dried herbs and spices go in the pot, the chunks of meat, an old, budding potato.

"You know," his father said quietly, stirring the pot, "I often ask myself what went wrong." Lloyd sat silently, trying not to listen, but he couldn't help it. "Am I being tested? Why did the gods give me a son like you?"

Because they're the same cruel bastards that would give me a father like you, Lloyd thought, but his recent vow prevented him from speaking.

"And then I realized, it wasn't the gods that went wrong, it was me. When did I let you become so cruel, so self-absorbed? Was it when your mother died? Was it before, even? Maybe if she were alive, we both would've turned out differently."

He tossed a bone to Noishe, who gnawed at it eagerly. An enticing smell wafted from the pot, and Lloyd's stomach growled. He was sure his father could hear it. He tried to tell his stomach to shut up, to not show how much he wanted that soup, but it rumbled on.

Kratos put a lid on the pot, stood, and came over to him. Lloyd tried not to look him in the eyes. "Are you ready for dinner?" he asked. "Are you going to run away?"

Lloyd stared at his feet, trying to scowl, flinching at the pain in his face. His father sighed and knelt beside him, reaching around him to undo the knot that held him to the tree trunk. When the cord fell away, Lloyd stayed still. He was afraid to move, so he waited until his father walked back to the fire before he scooted toward him. His dad slopped some stew into a thin metal bowl and handed it to him. He didn't serve any for himself, but he gave Noishe a few mouthfuls.

The soup was delicious, and strangely comforting. The more Lloyd ate, the more comfortable he became, and he only got through half his bowl before he had to set it down and close his eyes. His pain left him, and warmth spread from his stomach through his limbs. He yawned. He wondered if his father drugged him, and figured it was probably easier than tying him to a tree. He suddenly didn't mind; his pain was gone, he felt nice, warm…

His head drooped, and his father was there, asking him if he was all right. He was suddenly too tired to answer, and only muttered some nonsense. He closed his eyes and arms wrapped around him, picking him up. His father carried him to his bedroll and lay him down, limp and yawning. He draped the blanket over him and stood up to leave.

Lloyd, still in a soporific haze, heard himself say, "Wait."

His father turned and knelt by him.

"I'm… I…" he couldn't get the words out for the life of him. "Don't leave."

"I won't." His father crossed his legs beside him. "Just go to sleep."

Lloyd must've temporarily lost his mind. Even now, he could hardly remember exactly what he had said. It was something like, "I miss her."

Kratos was silent for a while before replying, "Me too. More than you know."

Lloyd closed his eyes, and even though he desired nothing more than to stay awake, to nurse the resentment and anger he had towards his father, sleep came over him like water, and he swiftly, mercifully drowned in it.


	22. Light

"Lloyd, wake up. Lloyd!" He cracked his eyes open to see Raine hovering over him. "Did you party too hard last night? You didn't even make it inside."

"Um. No. I didn't party," he said. "I just… fell asleep out here, I guess." He sat up, pulled clumps of dirt and twigs from his hair, rubbed the dust from his eyes.

"You look like hell," Genis said. "What did you do last night?"

"I went for a walk, came back here, and just… fell asleep."

"Well, I hope you're rested," Raine said. "We're going back to get the Rheiards."

"Morning, Lloyd!" Zelos and Sheena, hoisting their packs, bent over him. "So, you get smashed last night or what? Why are you sleeping on the ground?"

"I don't know," Lloyd answered, a little tired of this game. He stood and brushed himself off. "Where's Colette?"

"She's coming. Don't you worry, lover-boy," Sheena smiled. Lloyd glared at her as Colette, as if on cue, rounded the corner and greeted them.

They were off, trudging down the road toward the south, where they had left the Rheiards. Genis joked how it was just like when they first set off to regenerate the world.

"How things have changed," Raine murmured.

"Tell me about it," Genis replied.

"You know," Sheena said. "If what Undine said was true, and for each pact we make the worlds drift a little farther apart, don't you think it would be a good idea to make a few while we're here? I mean, we don't even know how we're going to get back to Tethe'alla. The Otherworldly gate is closed, and I don't exactly want to go crawling back to the Renegades to use theirs."

Raine scratched her chin. "I'm a little reluctant to continue making pacts when we really have no idea of the physical effects. We don't know if that's the right course of action."

"What choice have we got, at this point?" Sheena asked.

"Not much," Raine conceded. "Still, first thing's first. We recover our mobility."

They stopped for lunch a few miles out of Iselia. Lloyd sat down on a rock, unpacked what Genis had made him, and began to eat. Instead of food, Raine pulled out a notebook and began furiously scribbling.

Lloyd looked over her shoulder, curious. "What are you writing, Raine?"

"I'm just jotting down a few notes about the geological and astronomical similarities—and differences—between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla."

Lloyd looked over her shoulder at her drawings. "I've noticed that the moons are different," he said, "but the stars are the same."

"Have you, Lloyd? That's very observant of you. Perhaps I should get you started on an astronomy textbook sometime."

"Uh. No thanks, Prof. I'm only good at memorizing their shapes and the stories behind them."

"So what do you think of that strange fact? The identical stars, I mean. What could be a possible physical explanation for it?"

Lloyd didn't know if she was testing him or if the question was rhetorical. He didn't know that much about physics, and probably never would. "Um," he answered.

"I was thinking that perhaps the... inter-dimensional rift between the two worlds is weaker than I previously suspected," Raine continued. "They're less physically separated, and more directionally opposed. Like two sides of a coin."

"Or," Lloyd ventured, "one of the skies is fake."

"What?" Raine cringed like she'd just eaten something gross.

"Yeah, what if it's just a trick? Like a giant painting?"

"Lloyd. You can't be serious…"

He shrugged.

"That's it. I'm starting you on Genis' old astronomy text tomorrow."

"Seriously? Prof, I've already got a lot on my plate."

"Lucky for us you're quite the voracious eater, then."

"I don't even know what that means."

Raine sighed. "That's because you still have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on."

Lloyd frowned and decided to leave Raine to her work. It seemed for every time he bothered her, she came up with another assignment for him. He would just have to avoid interrupting her studies from now on, until… well, probably until he was too old for school.

They finished lunch and continued onward. Lloyd mostly watched his feet, a little disappointed that in his curiosity he had accidentally added another class to his schedule. But the fresh air and long walk made him forget the impending assignments, and he began to whistle. Colette walked beside him, finding his hand and squeezing it. It seemed for a brief moment that, if they could successfully make pacts with the summon spirits of both worlds, things might turn out all right.

When they reached the Rheiards, that unwarranted optimism crumbled into dust.

"Oh boy," Sheena sighed. "We're in for it now."

The Rheiards were all fueled up and ready to go, propped in takeoff position, surrounded by helmeted technicians. Reclining on the nearest one, legs crossed, feet swinging, was Yuan. He smiled down at them, smug as usual, and slipped off the Rheiard and onto the soft grass.

Lloyd drew his sword and placed himself between Yuan and Colette. "What are you doing here?"

Yuan shook his head. "What does it look like? I'm taking back what's mine." He let out a chuckle. "Honestly, you steal my Rheiards from me and then have the audacity to ask me what I'm doing here? That's plucky."

"We need those," was all Lloyd could say.

"Do you now? More than I need them? It doesn't look like you're regenerating any worlds. In fact, you seem to be doing quite the opposite."

Lloyd thought this might be his chance to interrogate the bastard about his father, so he raised his sword and pointed it at Yuan's chin.

"Where's my dad?" he asked.

Yuan shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in weeks. But my guess is that he hasn't moved at all since I last saw him."

"Tell me!" Lloyd spouted. "Now!"

Yuan laughed. "Go on," he said, "wrest it from me." He stretched out his hand and with a flash of yellow light, conjured a massive dual-bladed weapon. He swung it behind him, smiling, ready for Lloyd's attack.

Lloyd was happy to oblige him. He jumped forward, sword raised. He could barely hear his companions behind him, yelling at him to stop, to hold back, that this wasn't the place for it. Yuan had invited him to play and his exsphere had jumped at the opportunity.

He started to regret his decision to go with brute force as soon as Yuan swung his massive weapon forward. It swept Lloyd's sword aside like a boulder crushing a stick, and as he retreated, Lloyd couldn't help but be a little impressed that a skinny guy like Yuan could swing that thing at all. He regained his balance, shifted his feet and jumped forward again, sword raised.

Before their blades could meet, the sky burst into a fiery storm. Lloyd threw his arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the sudden intense light. A faint whistling soared high above them, and Lloyd squinted up to the sky. He saw nothing but an oppressive golden light, like a new sun was being born right above him. Then something long and sharp buried itself in the ground next to his feet, and he realized the whistling above him was a shower of arrows.

"Cruxis!" someone shouted.

"Damn it all!" Yuan bellowed, swiping a few shafts aside with his massive blade. He quickly motioned to Lloyd and made for the nearest Rheiard. "You. Get on, now."

"What?" Lloyd yelled as another arrow flew past his shoulder and landed in the grass behind him.

"We need to get the Chosen out of here," Yuan barked. "Now get on. All of you."

Lloyd didn't waste any more time. As the rain of arrows grew thicker, he grabbed Colette and scrambled onto the machine behind Yuan. With a nauseating jerk they took off to the south, engines sputtering. A few arrows embedded themselves in the Rheiard's wings with resounding thumps, but miraculously neither Lloyd nor Colette were hit. He dangled off the side of the device, looking back to the ground, where he saw angelic soldiers descend on the remaining Renegades. The fight kicked up a cloud of dust, Lloyd strained his eyes to see what was going on.

"Are you just gonna leave them there?" he yelled over the wind.

"This is their job," Yuan replied coolly. "They know what they're doing."

Lloyd watched the cloud of white dust disappear into the distance. He turned back around, and Colette held onto his arm as if she thought he might fall off.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "You?"

"Yes."

On the journey southward, Lloyd looked over his shoulder and counted the Rheiards following them. It looked like they had managed to save all of them, but he couldn't be so sure the people flying them were all right until they landed. He fretted inwardly for the duration of their flight, and after what seemed like forever, they landed in the desert, next to the Renegade base. Lloyd got off, stretched his legs and helped Colette down. The next Rheiard contained Raine and Genis, and they leapt off unharmed. The third one came down with a scream and landed on its side. Off flew Zelos, with Sheena practically thrown over his shoulder.

"Doc, she's been hit!" he screamed. She struggled slightly in his grasp, insisting weakly that she was fine. Her back and arms were red with blood, and an arrow stuck in her shoulder like a pin in a cushion. Zelos almost lay her down in the sand, calling to Raine.

"Get her inside, you idiot!" the healer yelled. "You want to get sand in her wound?"

Zelos, red-faced, picked her up and followed Yuan inside. Yuan led them to a white room with a small bed and an operating table, which Lloyd assumed was some sort of examination room. It was eerily similar to the one he had spent so much time in during his stay at the Asgard human ranch.

Sheena was laid down on the table, where she immediately started to bleed over its pristine white cover. Raine knelt next to her, examining the puncture. Sheena lay on her side, Zelos clasping her limp hand.

"I'm going to have to extract this," Raine said. "It's going to hurt."

"Bring it," Sheena grimaced.

When Raine tugged at the arrow, Sheena's face immediately betrayed her regret at her challenge. Her eyes went wide, her nose wrinkled, and she managed to keep her screams inside for a noble five seconds before she opened her mouth and wailed.

"Shh, honey!" Zelos said, almost panicking, grasping her hand. "Just look at me. Focus on this beautiful face." He leaned down a little too close to her, but she did stop screaming. "That's good. Have you ever seen a visage this fantastic? I think not. Regard the strong jaw line, the flawless skin, the dashing blue eyes. Marvel at it."

"Zelos…" she squeaked.

"Yes, dear?" he leaned in.

"I swear on everything holy, I will kill you."

"You're gonna have to live to do that," Zelos replied.

"It's out," Raine said, brandishing the bloody arrow.

Sheena hissed as Raine swabbed her injury.

Raine placed her hands over Sheena's bloodied back and a warm blue glow seeped from between her fingers. She closed her eyes, muttering something to herself.

"Looks like even an arrow to the back can't stifle your spunk," Zelos smiled proudly, as if he were somehow responsible for Sheena's endurance.

"You need to be quiet, Zelos." He looked hurt for a moment. "But don't let go. If things get really painful I need a few fingers to break."

"Uh. Happy to oblige," Zelos replied, a little nervously.

"Shh." Sheena closed her eyes. By the time Raine stood back, wiping sweat from her forehead with bloody hands, Sheena had passed out.

"That's all I can do for now," she said. "But she'll pull through."

They exited the medical wing, practically dragging Zelos from Sheena's side. In the hall, Yuan crossed his arms, frowning but visibly relieved. "Well. That was an adventure. For a brief moment I was afraid we'd lost our summoner."

"_Our_ summoner?" Genis growled.

Yuan smiled. "Ours. We're going to need her very soon. That is, if you truly want to save both worlds."

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.

Yuan instead turned to go. "Rest here for the night. We'll talk in the morning, when Ms Fujibayashi is feeling a bit better." With that, he swept down the hall and wasn't seen again that evening.

Lloyd couldn't sleep that night. He lay in the dark, in the cramped and overdecorated room the Renegades had provided for him. It was stuffy and hot, and he threw off his sheets, turning on his side. He thought of Yuan, of his father, of his situation. He boiled over with confusion, mistrust, shock, fretted over the world and fretted over his own fate. And as always, he wondered if he was actually doing the right thing. It pained him to think that perhaps all this work on the Regeneration, the pacts, looking for his father, was somehow the wrong way to go about things. if there were some other way, some way he wasn't smart enough to see, a way where no one had to suffer?

"Damn it all," he muttered to himself, and threw off the covers. He suddenly didn't want to be alone, so he pulled on his pants and creaked open his door. He knew that Colette was in the room opposite him, so he decided he might as well see if she was still awake. He glanced to his left, then his right, to make sure no one saw him sneaking into her room, then crept across the hall and put his hand on her doorknob.

Her room was unlocked, so he silently swung open the door. Colette stood with her back to him, half-naked, wrestling with a bathrobe. Steam filled the room and dissolved from her wet skin, and Lloyd couldn't help staring for a bit too long before he covered his eyes and announced his presence. "Um, Colette, it's me," he said.

"I know," she replied, pulling the robe over her shoulder. "I heard you come down the hall."

"I'm sorry. If you want me to leave, I will."

"No, stay. I'm decent." She smiled at him and sat down on her bed, pulling her wet hair over her shoulder. He closed the door behind him and sat down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He pulled a strand of hair away from her neck, revealing a smattering of what looked to be green scales. Come to think of it, they looked a bit like the crystallized cells surrounding Lloyd's malignant exsphere. And gods, it was spreading just as fast as his ailment. He reached out to touch it, but she flinched, so he took his hand away.

"Please don't look at it," Colette said.

"Colette..." he started. "I've already seen it. It's not new."

"I know. It's just... it's ugly, you know?"

Lloyd almost laughed and raised his left hand. "Have you seen my arm lately? They look exactly alike. So if you're ugly, then I'm ugly."

"You're not..." Colette began, then hung her head. Lloyd soberly realized why she had not thrown him out while she was only half-dressed, why she had not hidden herself when she heard him coming. She had wanted him to see her like this, wanted him to come to her and assure her that they were the same, that even though their respective diseases would kill them, it would also bring them closer. She needed assurance that despite her ailment, she was still beautiful, and that he could still give her comfort in her hopelessness. That if they were both monsters, hideous, dying monsters, than by all the gods they would be dying monsters together.

He cupped her cheek with his greenish, veiny hand and leaned in, pressing his lips against her scaled neck. He reached up and drew the robe down her arm, revealing her sickly, lamellar shoulder. She turned away, but didn't stop him from kissing that too. He felt he had to accept her worst parts to accept her best, so he attended to her ailing skin with care.

"Lloyd," she said, and he sat up to face her.

"What is it?" he asked, worried he might be hurting her or making her uncomfortable.

"Can I... um..."

Before she finished her query, her mouth was on his. Pleasantly surprised, he cupped her shoulders and let her push him against the headboard. She took him over, emptied his mind of everything but her; the pain in his arm vanished, along with the unsettling fear, lingering resentment, insurmountable confusion, and for a brief, clear moment, he felt whole again. In his mind, there was only her—her lips, hair, and the ethereal glow that seemed to rise from her like steam. The stench of sickness and its greenish hue dissipated, replaced by a strange light that might—just might—stave off death for a little while longer.

* * *

When they were done, Lloyd lay paralyzed on his back, staring at the ceiling. The surety that had taken him over before had retreated, and he could feel uncertainty crawl its way back to fill him up. He didn't know what to say, if anything. Maybe he was supposed to stay silent at this strange, fragile point—he had no idea, and it terrified him. It was as if the gravity of what they had both done only hit him after the fact.

He gulped, unsure. "Um…"

Colette turned to him, hugging her knees.

"Did you like it?"

Her smile made all the pent-up fear release in an instant. "Of course I did."

"Oh. Because I was worried you didn't…" He had to stop there.

"Lloyd. I would tell you if I didn't like it."

"So…" he felt himself relax, "it wasn't terrible?"

Colette's loving smile warmed him through and through. "Why on earth would it be terrible?"

Lloyd rolled over on his stomach and lay his head on his crossed arms. "Well, it's just that some of the older boys at school always talked about how the first time is always bad. Especially for the girl. You should've heard their horror stories."

Colette laughed. "I'm sure they're nothing compared to the stories the Priests of Martel would tell young acolytes to keep them from doing it. Eternal damnation, punishment, dishonor, excommunication. Everything in the Church depended on purity." Her smile faded and she stared at the opposite wall, pensive. "I wonder what the priests would think if they could see their Chosen now."

Lloyd turned on his side and propped his head up on his elbow. "Well, the only other Chosen I know isn't exactly celibate. And he hasn't been struck by lightning yet. Unfortunately."

Colette chuckled into the back of her hand. "That's true." She sighed. "I was always afraid I would die before… you know. I had duties. Regeneration doesn't leave much time for romance. But you know what?"

"What?" Lloyd reached out and took her hand.

"It feels pretty good to be bad sometimes."

Lloyd, being a certified juvenile delinquent, could certainly agree.

Colette's smile faded. "Just don't tell the others… about us. That could make things weird."

"If you want. But things are already kinda weird around here. I'm pretty sure Zelos and Sheena have been at it for months. They're probably in the medical wing right now, punishing that poor bed."

Colette grinned. "Lloyd, you're so gross."

He pulled her down beside him. "It happens when you go to a boys' school. Especially in a sailor town. The mouths on those people." Lloyd shook his head and tsk-tsked. They lay there in silence for a moment.

"Lloyd?"

"Hmm?

"Thank you."

Lloyd sighed. "So what, this was just a favor for you?"

"No, it's not like that."

He shushed her. "I know. I'm just pulling your leg."

"Sorry."

"You're such a dork."

"I'm just... glad you don't think I'm hideous."

He sighed and shook his head. He wasn't sure if he had a helpful reply to something so stupidly self-critical, so he instead drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. He lay his head in the hollow of her shoulder, breathing in her scent. He could outrun that darkness inside him for a little longer if he stayed here, attached to her like a limb, so he squeezed her, trying to fall into her skin, to disappear in her embrace, until exhaustion took him and he finally fell asleep.


	23. Yuan

Lloyd woke up alone. He stretched and sat up, yawning. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, pulled on his pants and crept to the door. He opened it, glanced both directions down the hall, and went back to his room to get dressed. He wondered what time it was. It was certainly difficult to tell from the center of this windowless fortress. He pulled on his shoes and reentered the hallway, wondering where Colette had gone.

He worried for a second she had regretted her decision to spend the night with him. He wondered if she had some lingering fears about the act, instilled in her for so long by her religion. It's not like he had any regrets, but then again he was just a recalcitrant schoolboy with a history of bad behavior, and she was… well, the Chosen One. What if it was awkward for them from here on out? What if she didn't want to continue this romantic thing, what if, even worse, she decided she didn't want to talk to him again? He wandered the halls, thinking himself more and more into a panic, until he bumped into her.

"Oh!" she said, smiling. "We were waiting for you." She grabbed his hand gently and led him down the hall. Lloyd scolded himself for getting worked up—here she was, smiling, radiant as always, and he was already worrying that she might never talk to him again. What was wrong with him?

They made their way to the medical wing and opened the door. Sheena sat up on her bed, looking a bit pale but otherwise fine. Raine, Genis, Zelos and Yuan stood around her.

"You sure slept in," Genis said, crossing his arms.

"Whatever," Lloyd replied, a little worried they might rightly suspect he and Colette had been up to something last night. "Now that we're all here," he continued a little too immediately, "you have some explaining to do."

Yuan sighed. "I do suppose I'll have to inform you of the situation if you're going to be of any use."

"So get on with it."

"You patience is unmatched, I see. Well, then. Let me begin by saying that I know what you're doing. I know that making pacts in both worlds will sever the mana link between them. I know because I was there when they were originally made. But I'm not sure if any of you know exactly what you're doing. For each pact you make, the link between worlds gets weaker and weaker. When all pacts are made, the worlds will drift apart."

"Why is that bad?" Sheena asked. "There will be no mana flow, no regeneration, so no decline."

"It's bad because when the worlds drift apart, mana will disperse. It will no longer be contained within them. It will slowly leak out, and both worlds wither and die."

"So that option is out," Raine said.

"Not entirely. I'm sure you've all heard of the Kharlan Tree."

"The one from the stories?" Genis asked. "Is it even real?"

"It used to be. But it has reverted to a seed. The state of the worlds will not allow it to grow. However, supplied with enough mana, it will germinate, and then we will have an endless supply."

"So if we just make the tree sprout, then we'll be able to separate the worlds?" Lloyd asked.

"We could. Or we would be able to reunite them."

"Reunite?"

"Yes. The worlds were once one, you know. Until Mithos the Hero split them apart to end the great war between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, with the help of his sister Martel, myself, and Kratos."

All eyes were suddenly on Lloyd. He didn't know what to say. He looked left, then right, for some help. "No way my dad's that old," was all he could say. He knew his father was a curmudgeonly geezer, but he couldn't be _that_ ancient.

"He is. And so am I. And so is Yggdrasill. We were the ones who tore the world apart. And now I'm the one who has to put it back together."

"How are we gonna do that?" Sheena asked.

"Firstly, we need to make sure that once reunited, the world's supply of mana is secure. For that we need to germinate the Great Seed. One of the Desian cardinals is developing a weapon capable of that. I believe he calls it the mana cannon. He thinks he's going to use it to overthrow Yggdrasill, but we'll be using it before he does. We need to secure it from him, and pummel the Seed till it sprouts. Providing enough mana will require elemental power of enormous magnitude. We need a summoner for that."

"So you can use the spirits as fuel, basically," Sheena guessed.

Yuan nodded. "Secondly, we need a tool. A sword that only Mithos can wield."

"What's the point of even grabbing the thing if we can't use it?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm getting to that. If we manage to make a pact with Origin, we can use it."

"But you'd need a diamond pact ri…" Sheena trailed off. "Lloyd. We'd need the ring that your dad was looking for."

"We need the ring, and we need to break the seal on Origin. Without doing that, we don't stand a chance."

"Well, where is the seal? How do we break it?" Lloyd asked.

"This is where things get a little complicated. The seal is less of a thing and... more of a person."

"Well?"

"The seal was made using the blood and mana of your father, Lloyd."

"W… what?" Lloyd squeaked.

"And to release the seal and save the worlds… he's going to have to die."

"No way," Lloyd shook his head vigorously. "You're lying. I won't have any part of this. You're sick, saying stuff like that." He didn't need to be here. He didn't need to be listening to nonsense like this.

He strode out of the medical wing without another word. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, and no one followed him out. He stomped through the halls, unsure of where he was even going. He twisted around a few corners, making sure that if anyone wanted to follow him, they'd have a hard time doing it. He slid down a tiny corridor and discovered a metallic door, barely two feet wide. He opened it and found a dark storage closet. Without realizing exactly what he was doing, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to sit, clasping his knees. What was Yuan thinking, spouting all that bullshit nonsense… About the Kharlan Tree, about Mithos the Hero… Lloyd knew better. He knew they were all made-up stories. Just things you'd tell your kid at night to help them get to sleep. Just stories…

"Lloyd?" Colette's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. He held his breath, trying not to make any noise. He hoped she'd skip this door and move on. "Lloyd. I can hear your heart beating in there."

He released his breath and opened the door. Colette came in, shut the door behind her and sat down beside him. The two of them barely fit inside of the tiny closet, but he felt more comfortable with her in here for some reason. He sat silently for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say.

"Do you believe him?" he asked Colette.

"I don't know, Lloyd. Do you?"

Lloyd rested his chin on his knees. "I don't want to. But after all the crap I've seen, I kinda feel like I have to."

"I'll believe whatever you do."

"That doesn't really help."

"Sorry."

Lloyd sighed. He was just glad she was here with him. They sat silently in the closet for a long time, alone, enveloped in comforting shadows. Lloyd just stared ahead at the wall, and Colette held his hand, occasionally squeezing it as if to make sure he was still there. After what seemed like forever, Lloyd had made up his mind on what to do, so he stood up and opened the door. Colette followed him out.

"I'm going to ask Yuan a few questions," he said.

"Oh. Well, I'll wait for you, I guess." Colette looked a little hurt, but she let go of his hand.

"Thanks." He left her in the hall, making his way to where he thought he'd find Yuan. He swept through the corridors and to the door to his office. He told himself to be brave and went inside.

Yuan sat at his desk, reading. He looked up when Lloyd entered the room and removed his spectacles. "Well. You're back. Did you have a good think?"

"Why should I even believe you? Why should I listen to you? You're the one responsible for this whole twisted world."

Yuan sighed. "Me, Mithos, Martel, and your father. We're all culpable. However, I'm the only one that seems to have the fortitude to take responsibility and attempt reparations. Your father couldn't even do that."

"What do you mean?"

"We all turned against Mithos at one time or another. He turned sometime shortly after I did. But for nearly two decades he refused to break the seal on Origin. Hundreds of thousands of people died in those years, at the hands of Desians, in skirmishes, in drought, famine, and other disasters that result from a low mana supply. And he refused to die and let another put the world back together. All because he didn't want to orphan a boy who would probably be better off with no father at all than with a father like him."

Lloyd, struck dumb, tried to think of what to say next. All this—the millennia of Desian slavery, the starvation, the death, the savage ritual of the Chosen, the human sacrifice… all this because of a mistake four people made thousands of years ago. And no one had had the guts to fix it: not his dad, not Mithos himself, not even Yuan, so far. Well, all that was left was him.

He stood silently for a few moments, weighing his options, constantly sweeping aside the morality of it all only to have it return and block him from making a decision. He told himself he would do anything to save the world, to save Colette, but how could he trust himself when he had failed so many times?

Yuan seemed to sense the tumult in his brain, and closed the massive tome before him, staring at Lloyd intently. "What do you want, Lloyd?"

Lloyd was taken aback by the sudden question. "What? I want... I want you to answer my questions."

Yuan sighed and closed his eyes. "No, Lloyd, what do you really _want_? To save the world? To save the Chosen? To save your father?"

All of the above, if possible, Lloyd thought. "I want to end suffering. End violence."

Yuan just smiled, pensive. "You remind me of him, you know. Mithos, back before… before his madness. He wanted to end suffering, end war. Truly a noble goal. That's a lot on your plate, kid, if you want to live up to his name. If you really want to save the world, you're going to have to take on a lot more than just Mithos. You're going to have to stop famine, drought, eliminate prejudice and ignorance, solve every petty squabble over resources—you'd have to change the fundamental nature of humankind. And that's exactly what Mithos is doing, or trying to."

"How come you turned against him?" Lloyd asked. "You and dad both?"

Yuan snorted. "Because, simply put, he was insane. Insane, obsessive, all too powerful, but still absurdly naïve. He's destroyed the very structure of our planet, he's condemned the world to mana depletion, all so he can be with his sister again. He's trying to redesign every human on the planet. Purge their flaws. And if I know one thing, it's that a man obsessed with genetic purity is never good news. Your father turned on him for the same reasons I did, I presume, but I was far subtler about it. I kept in touch with both sides, whereas he disappeared into the wilderness, only reemerging years later with Kvar's pet project for a lover, and a toddler hanging off his arm." Yuan stopped to laugh a little. "You know, a long, long time ago, before either of us ever even considered settling down, Kratos told me he'd make me godfather of any children he had. Well, when you came along, he never did. He had stopped talking to me, to any of us. He never told me about you. He probably figured I'd try to use you against him. He wasn't completely wrong."

A nagging question itched at the back of Lloyd's mind and he couldn't banish it. He couldn't summon it to his tongue either, for fear of the answer.

"Lloyd," Yuan continued, taking advantage of his silence. "Let me see your hands." Reluctantly, he held them up, the evil red, the benevolent blue. Yuan examined them from the safety of his desk, with mild interest and less sympathy. "I was rather pleased to hear about what you did to Kvar. You sure saved me some trouble. Then again, I'm sure it was a delightful experience for you too, knowing what he did to your family."

Lloyd's stomach turned at the thought. His face, his bloodied, split face, the gashes all over him left there by countless swings of Flamberge. He would've liked it if Yuan had done the job instead of him. Over time, the brutality of what he'd done seemed to banish all the lingering triumph he had felt as he exacted his revenge. And still, there was that burning question, the one he had come here originally to ask, the one that would determine whether or not he would be able to kill his own father to liberate the two worlds.

He clenched his fists and finally forced himself to ask it. "Did my father do it?"

"Do what?"

"Did he kill my mother?"

Yuan stared at him for a moment. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm not presumptuous enough to guess Kratos' motives. After all, I wasn't there. And you've already killed Kvar, the last remaining witness. So you're going to have to ask him yourself."

"I'll do it."

"What?"

"I'll go get him back. I'll help you release the seal."

"Even if that means you have to kill him?"

Lloyd felt his muscles go weak, but he told himself to press onward. For the sake of Colette, for the sake of the entire world, and for his mother. "Yes. I'll do it."

"Well then. We have some work ahead of us." Yuan stood and reached behind his desk. "You left this here last time. I didn't give it back because you seemed like you were in quite a hurry to leave." Yuan produced Flamberge and handed it over to him.

Lloyd took it, unsure of what to say. "When will we…"

"We need to make preparations. It will be a few days, at least. Think long and hard about what you want to do. But remember, if you back out, you're condemning the entire world." Lloyd turned to go, nodding briefly. He didn't want to think about it. He made for Yuan's office door, but stopped to listen to the half-elf's last command. "And Lloyd. Don't let that exsphere kill you before you finish the job."

Lloyd glanced behind him at Yuan as the office door slid closed, and found himself staring at it for a few more seconds before he turned and walked down the hall. He had encountered this kind of sentiment too many times before. If I die, and I will die, I must die usefully, he told himself. For everyone. But his father's sound advice from so many years ago came to his head:_ That's how people are, Lloyd, that's what they do. They use you until you're no good to them anymore. Then they toss you._

That's how it was at the ranch, that's how it was here. That's how it was everywhere—the worth of a human being was contingent on utility.

No. No, dad. You're wrong, he told himself. I'm not being used. I do this because I want to.

He wasn't sure. He was never sure. No matter how earnestly he groped at the truth, it always escaped him. He figured he would die without certainty of anything, and he wasn't quite okay with that. Everything he told himself only sounded like desperate justification, a last refuge for the utterly incorrect. If he was incorrect, there wasn't much he could do about it now. He was in too deep.

Lloyd clutched Flamberge like a drowning man clutching a buoy. He grit his teeth as he made his way down the hall. He couldn't breathe, he needed air. This building was a smothering death-trap. He practically sprinted to the base's entrance and out into the desert, only to find the sun already slipping behind the farthest dunes. He walked as far into the desert as far as he dared, and seated himself on the cooling sand. He lay Flamberge beside him, crossed his legs, and stared into the sky.

Curse his family. Curse their luck. Was it something in their blood? Was it something they did ages ago? It must've been—after all, his father apparently had over four thousand years to rack up the bad karma. He wondered if all the angry souls his father had killed over the years were now seeking revenge for their untimely deaths. He stared at his red exsphere, cursing Kvar, his father, his mother for ever loving him. The exsphere responded to his stress by throbbing with light and sending pulses of pain down his arm. He could almost see the skin around it ripple, veins bulging. He instinctively knew that even with Dirk's key crest, he didn't have much time left.

If he was going to die, he might as well take his father down with him and save the world while he was at it. He wondered if he could really do it. He and his father had been at each other's throats for years now. It wouldn't have surprised him to learn that they would one day actually try to kill each other. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the rusty locket. It looked neglected and shabby without its silver chain, and he was almost afraid of what he would find in it. He forced himself to pry it open anyway, and stared at the faded picture inside.

"Is that you?"

Lloyd jumped and glanced over his shoulder to see Colette, smiling as usual. He relaxed and looked back at the picture. She sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You were a fat baby," she said, laughing.

"Yeah. I was."

"Is that your mother?"

"Yeah."

"She's beautiful."

Lloyd sighed. "You know, I never could remember what she looked like. Even now, it's hard for me to recall. And this is the only picture I have of her."

"Do you remember anything?"

"Just that… when I look at her, I remember being afraid. Not of her, but for her. I think that somewhere in me I remember what my father did to her, and it still scares me."

"Lloyd…"

"Oi! Lloyd!" A voice that was certainly not Colette's flew over the dunes and into his ears. He stood, hiding the locket. He turned to see Zelos, piggybacking Sheena across the sand. "Yo!"

"What do you want?" he asked irritably.

"We were just going into Triet so see if we can find some tequila. Sheena needs it."

"I don't know why he's carrying me," Sheena sighed. "I can walk, you know."

"Whatever, honey. You're gonna need me to carry you a lot more after we find that tequila."

"Ugh, just get on with it. I'm too sore for this."

"You coming?" Zelos asked Lloyd. His expression darkened. "You're gonna need it."

"I'm good," Lloyd said. "Colette, how about you?"

"Um. Well I—"

"Come on, don't be such a wet blanket," Zelos said. "You need to have more fun."

"Well…"

"Go on, Colette," Lloyd nudged her. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Okay, Lloyd." Reluctantly she left with them, occasionally glancing behind her. They disappeared over the crest of the dune and walked west into the sunset.

Back in the base, Raine did her routine examination of his hand. She prodded it, moved it around, jotted some notes down. The skin around his exsphere seemed like it had turned hard, almost scaly.

"It's getting worse," she said. "Is it sore?"

"Yeah. It doesn't exactly feel great."

"If you weren't in such compromising situations all the time, I don't think it would be advancing this fast. Perhaps you should take a break."

"Are you kidding, Prof?"

Raine shook her head. "I wish I could tell you to take it easy. But I know you can't. None of us can. I know I'm not known for sugar-coating things, but I'll be blunt. You need to do what you need to do, soon. Get done what you need to get done before this thing kills you. That's all I can say." She turned away from him, eyes wet.

"Raine…" he said. He could tell she was trying her best to keep her composure.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd. I truly am. Thank you for letting me document your condition." She stood up.

Lloyd reached out to her, but she was already moving away from him. "Wait," he said before she reached the door. She half-turned, as if afraid to look him in the eye. "Don't tell Colette. Please."

Raine shook her head. "I don't think you'd be able to hide this from her. She probably already knows you're close to the end. She's sensitive like that." Raine waited a moment. "But if you want, I won't mention it."

"And don't tell Genis, either."

"Of course I won't."

"Thanks, Professor."

She stood in the doorway for a few long seconds, then turned to him. "Lloyd. After what the Desians did to you, I was worried that you would hate us—Genis and me—knowing what we are. I'm so grateful you don't. The world needs more people like you." She lowered her gaze, as if thinking hard about what to say next. "So, for our sake, try to live as long as you can."

Lloyd smiled weakly. "I will."


	24. At the End of Everything

The next few days passed in a blur. Indistinguishable Renegade soldiers crawled through the halls like termites in a mound, carrying equipment, hollering at one another, always in a hurry. The base was buzzing with activity, most of which didn't involve Lloyd. They usually just stuck him in the back and gave him menial tasks, like repairing Rheiards and guns, or cleaning armor. In truth, he felt a little left out, so when Yuan called him into his office, he was relieved that he would at least take some important part of this operation.

"We will be splitting up at this juncture," Yuan said when he had gathered them all in his office. "I will be securing the mana cannon, and I'll be taking the summoner with me. We will use her two spirits to do a test run on the cannon, once we wrestle it from the Desians."

Sheena nodded. She had recovered miraculously quickly—a fact that Lloyd attributed to Raine's superior healing skills, and that Zelos attributed to tequila.

"My second-in-command will accompany you to the Tower, and to Derris-Kharlan beyond that. You will have two hundred troops with you, both for diversionary purposes and backup. All of them have orders to kill Kratos on sight. That includes you."

Lloyd nodded.

"So. You will go meet Botta in the hangar. He will take you to the Tower. Whatever you do, follow his lead. He knows what's going on. Any questions you have you can direct to him on the way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mana cannon to find and a Desian cardinal to murder." He rose, fully armored, and donned a shadowy helmet. He strode toward the door but turned around before exiting. "Good luck. And Lloyd."

"Yeah?"

"Don't screw up." He swept out of sight.

Botta waited in the Rheiard bay, dressed for action. He addressed the gathering soldiers, and Lloyd pushed his way to the front. He, Genis and Raine were all assigned to the same unit. Colette was ordered to stay at the base, since sending her to Derris-Kharlan would practically be delivering her into the hands of Cruxis. Zelos had opted to accompany Sheena—"You know, just in case she gets outta hand."

"Now that you're all here, let's run through some things." Botta had a voice that carried across the hangar with such authority that the hum of chatting soldiers dampened immediately. "Each of your squadrons will receive instructions from its commanding officer. Emergency procedures, rendezvous points, and the like will all be covered. I will be taking a small detachment to the objective point. The rest of you are either accompanying the primary division or have your own assignment. Remember: stick with your unit. The chances of us all getting out alive are minuscule to begin with; if you find yourself alone, that probability rapidly approaches zero. Perform flawlessly, obey your superiors, and you will survive. Make every action count."

A grim but determined silence hovered over the bay as the soldiers geared up and prepared themselves. Echoing around the hangar were the sounds of clinking armor and sputtering motors, but no conversation. There seemed like there was very little hope among these rebels. Lloyd regretted allowing Raine and Genis to come along on this suicidal escapade.

As if sensing his distress, Genis elbowed him. "Hey. We can take care of ourselves, you know. You don't have to get protective all of a sudden."

"I know, Genis," Lloyd said. "Sorry. But I can't help it."

"You dummy," Genis replied. "It's you that we're all worried about. But if anything happens to you, I'll save you."

Lloyd smiled.

"I will certainly help." Raine didn't seem to like being excluded from the conversation. "What will my pedagogical record look like if I just let my students die on me?"

"Glad to see your motivations are noble," Genis muttered, and Raine slapped him.

Lloyd smiled mirthlessly, just happy that he had some backup. He might be more comfortable if—

A familiar hand found his, and he turned to see an unfamiliar person. A heavily-armored but smallish Renegade soldier stood beside him, gripping his hand. He almost pulled away, until he saw a bright blue eye wink at him under the mask. He released one of his fingers from the soldier's grip and began to write in her palm, arms still hanging beside them so no one would suspect what they were doing.

_BRAVE_, he wrote.

_Let me come._

He hesitated for a brief moment, trying to quell the voices inside him that popped up with "It's too dangerous" and "You'll be killed" and "Stay here." He knew she would follow him anyway. Maybe she suffered from the same sort of strength of will that he did, the kind of determination that only came with the knowledge that one's time was running out.

She squeezed his hand and let go, just in time for Botta to materialize beside them. "All right. All of you. Follow me and load up." He led them to a couple Rheiards at the edge of the bay. "You're going to obey every order I give without hesitation. You're not going to attempt any self-sacrificing heroics. And for the love of all that is good, you're going to stick together."

"Yessir," Soldier Colette said a little too eagerly.

Botta sighed and donned his helmet. "Let's go. And try not to die."

* * *

The Tower of Salvation was, as usual, eerily silent. The only sound echoing in the blue-green abyss of the building was the clink of Renegade boots. Lloyd thought he could hear his own tortured heartbeat as he followed Botta to the altar and the portal beyond. He looked around, squinting at the endless blue, but couldn't see any guards, angles, monsters, traps… nothing. It was all going remarkably well so far.

"I'll go in first," Botta said quietly. In the unnatural silence of the Tower, his whisper sounded like a booming shout. Lloyd almost flinched at the noise. "You follow closely. Don't get lost." The Renegade commander stepped into the pillar of light and disappeared.

For some reason Lloyd thought he had to hold his breath as he went inside, like submerging himself in water. His lungs tightened and his skin prickled as the light swallowed him. It felt somewhat like being doused with warm mist, and he was just about to enjoy it when the portal spat him back out.

He was in a massive atrium, beyond whose large, curved windows he saw a vast sea of stars. Metallic pillars supported an enormous, clear ceiling, barely tall enough to enclose dozens of silver buildings, all glowing with a strange light. Lloyd wondered if this was a city—he didn't have any other word for it. He spied a few human figures on the other side of the atrium and drew his sword.

Botta stopped him. "These angels are mindless. Lifeless. They pose no threat. Leave them be." Lloyd replaced his sword and relaxed a little.

"Why are they here?" Raine asked quietly.

"They are just victims of Yggdrasill's grand scheme to end prejudice. If he gets his way, we'll all end up like this. Indistinguishable, soulless drones."

"That's… terrifying," Raine said.

Botta didn't reply. He just led them down what might've been a street. Angels floated above them, doing nothing, being nothing, eyes staring, empty. They're just like Colette used to be, Lloyd said to himself. He looked over at her, and even through her helmet, he could see she was thinking the same thing. They had almost made it to the end of the street when the clanging of bells turned all of their eyes upward. A wave of wings and weapons crashed over the tips of the buildings, and the Renegades readied themselves for the assault.

"_Those_ are the angels that pose a threat," Botta said. "Quickly, follow me."

"We can't just leave the others!" Lloyd said, watching the angels rapidly approach.

"This is their job, boy! Now follow me."

Someone grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him down the street. He flopped behind like a fish, trying to get his feet back on the ground. When he did, they were all in front of a dingy, precarious-looking door.

"This is it," Botta said, and led them inside. They went in one by one: first Genis, then Colette and a few other helmeted Renegades, then Raine, and finally Lloyd. He took one last glance at the battle and saw Renegade soldiers falling in droves at the tips of angelic spears swooping downward. He twitched, wishing that he could run in and help them, but Botta commanded him to close the door. He did, leaving the sounds of slaughter behind him.

The dim corridor was rickety and smelled like trash. Lloyd figured this must be the city's garbage conduit. To his left and right stood piles of scrap metal, plastic tubing and other electronic waste. Rusted corpses of once-proud machines lay scattered about the halls, slowly decaying. Wires and corroded tubing ran along the ceiling, frayed and occasionally spewing a stray spark. It looked like this place could fall apart any minute.

The dust was so thick and the lights so dim that Lloyd didn't see one of the machines come to life behind him. It rose slowly and hovered a few feet off the ground. It clicked quietly, turned on its targeting laser, and centered its guns on him.

"Security drone!" Botta didn't finish his warning before the drone fired. Lloyd sprang out of the way, but not before a bullet clipped his shoulder. He gasped, flying into the wall, and the drone followed him, firing rapidly. He stumbled forward to escape, waving his arms, and tumbled to the ground, where he met a shower of bullets.

The others stepped in to protect him, but not before the floor around him was sufficiently riddled with holes that it began to sag. Oh shit, was all he had time to think before the floor creaked and gave way below him. The next few seconds were blurry, painful, disorienting and stomach-churning. He was briefly weightless, breathless, tumbling downward, cloaked in a thick cloud of dust and debris.

He landed on his back, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He sputtered and flipped over, dodging the cascade of detritus that came tumbling down after him. Somewhere above him and to his left, through the wall of garbage, he heard muffled gunfire and the shouts of his companions. He struggled to his feet, trying to make out where he had fallen from, but the dust and debris made it difficult. He seemed to be in a hallway similar to the one from which he had just fallen, but smaller, darker, and more cluttered. He briefly examined himself for injuries, but miraculously found nothing fatal—a few clips here and there, but his shoulder seemed to be the worst of it. No wonder that drone was in the trash pile; obviously its targeting system was horribly dysfunctional. He took a moment to examine his surroundings and saw only one way to go. He turned away from the mess he had made and stumbled down the hall, clutching his bleeding wound.

He thought he might as well try to find a way back up to his comrades. He wanted desperately to help them, to make sure they were all right, but he also remembered Botta's warning that surviving here alone was practically impossible.

I promised them I'd live, at least for a while, Lloyd thought. So I'd better find them fast. He sped down the hall, dripping blood, but otherwise unimpeded. He seemed to be alone in the tiny corridor, with no human or mechanical company. He was grateful for it, but it was also strangely unnerving, being in a facility this large but finding himself suddenly alone. Everything seemed cold and somehow muffled—he could only hear his own staggered breath and frantic heartbeat in this isolated hall.

Eventually he stumbled upon a door. It lay conspicuously at the very end of the corridor, bent and filthy. It looked like it had been closed for so long it had rusted shut. But Lloyd had nowhere else to go, so he leaned against it and pushed. It opened surprisingly easily, and he stepped inside.

What he saw in the tiny storage room brought him to his knees. Pinned to the far wall was his father, covered in blood, arms spread as if in supplication. From his sides and arms emerged thin tubing, which fed into a glowing apparatus on the floor. His eyes were closed, his chest still.

He's already dead, Lloyd told himself, relieved. He struggled to rise. He stumbled on shaking legs toward the suspended man. He's dead, he's dead, I don't have to kill him, I don't have to… please, please don't be dead. Please.

He forced himself to examine his father. He was unresponsive, but Lloyd could tell he was still alive—barely. He looked over the strange wires, the straps that kept him tied to the wall, the weird machine. The device had a glowing blue meter, and he didn't know what it meant. Maybe this was what was keeping his dad alive. Maybe it was what was killing him. So he could take his chances—either way, all he had to do was destroy it.

He raised his sword and thrust it through the screen. Sparks flew, lights flashed, an alarm sounded. Lloyd panicked and smashed down again and again on the monitor, hacking and slicing, until the sounds stopped and the machine sputtered into death.

Panting, he went back to the wall to examine his dad. Still alive. So he began the harrowing process of cutting him down. He hacked at the tubing and the plastic restraints, all the while telling himself to just stab him, just pierce his heart and be done with it, save the world, kill your father, just kill him.

Kratos' limp body fell away from the wall and onto Lloyd, blood dripping from his punctures. He caught him under the armpits and slowly lowered him to the floor. A shallow pool of dark blood grew under both of them, trickling down the tile.

Lloyd knelt, sword ready. He placed the tip of Flamberge at his father's throat, heart racing, head throbbing. His arms shook, his veins burning with the agonized power of both his exspheres. The left one pulsated eagerly, sending a flame of hatred down his arm—do it, he killed your mother, he's killed more people than you can count, it's only just, it's only fair, it's what he deserves. The other one jolted his right arm, telling it to hold back, to wait.

The pain was unbearable. Lloyd shifted the sword from Kratos' face, to his heart, to his neck. He was undecided on whether he should run him through or slit his throat—which would be faster, which would be more merciful, which way would be more poetic, which way had the bastard murdered his lover, the mother of his only child?

Lloyd gripped the hilt of his sword so tight it hurt. He lay the blade along his father's throat and steeled himself for the bloodbath.

Right then Kratos' eyes opened, barely, but Lloyd could see his dull brown irises beneath his blood-caked eyelids. Lloyd didn't know if he recognized him, or if he was cognizant enough to realize that his own son was about to murder him.

Apparently he was. Kratos raised a weak hand and placed it on Lloyd's knee. "So…" he smiled feebly. "Better you… than Mithos…" He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, as if inviting Lloyd to draw the sword across his throat.

Lloyd's hands shook so hard he couldn't steady the blade. He couldn't get a good grip on the hilt, he couldn't lower it to skin, he couldn't cut, couldn't… he just couldn't. He dropped Flamberge and it clanged by his feet. He wrapped his arms around his father and drew him upward, laying his back across his knee. He took Kratos' limp head in his hand and hugged it to his shoulder.

He cried into his father's hair, rocking slightly back and forth. He couldn't believe himself—daring to cut down his own blood like that. It would make him worse than the man that had killed his mother. Even for Colette, even for the entire world, he could not do it. Instead he held his father close and wept.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but it only came out as a squeak. He was too weak, to weak to do anything, to follow through, to stay true to his convictions. He could only cling desperately to the very man he hated most, he loved most. "Weak," he sobbed to himself. "I'm so sorry..." Kratos didn't reply, only lay limp in his arms, a slight, unconscious frown on his face, as if he was disappointed that Lloyd couldn't muster the guts to kill him.

"Well, that was a refreshing spectacle," came an eerily young voice. Lloyd looked up, thinking that perhaps Genis had found him, but he saw a boy he didn't recognize leaning against the door. "But it was a little dramatic for my taste."

Lloyd lay his father down and picked up his sword, standing slowly. "Who are you?"

The boy tossed aside his shaggy blond hair and smiled coldly. Lloyd thought he recognized that cruel grin. "You know me. You know me well. I'm sort of like your brother. You know, we're both trying to save the world."

Lloyd gripped Flamberge with both hands and stepped over his father's limp form. Abruptly he realized that he had stumbled upon the real Yggdrasill, the twisted ghost of the great hero, Mithos.

He could end it here. He could run him through and end the age of the two-world system and all its savagery. He could strike the Desians at their heart and destroy the man who had split the world and condemned so many people to suffer.

He screamed and lunged at Mithos, only to cut through air. The boy swept to the side, laughing. Lloyd swung again and missed. His exspheres burned, his injured shoulder throbbed, his hands were slippery with blood. He was in no state to take down an ancient and powerful hero, even if he had been at his best.

So it was no surprise that it ended like it did, and that it ended as quickly as it did. Mithos turned, arm outstretched, and after a devastating blow to Lloyd's throat, plucked Flamberge from his hand, kicked him to his knees, and lay the sword across his neck. Lloyd froze, empty-handed and trembling. The steel at his throat told him if he made a move he was finished.

"You know, Kratos," Mithos started. "I had always thought of Martel as my mother… and you as my father." Lloyd could see Kratos' arm twitch slightly. He struggled to make himself stay still, to not run over to him. "After the whole bloody mess of the War, my biggest hope was that we could all find someplace nice to live. You, me, her… We could find someplace green. Someplace in the mountains. And be a family."

Lloyd could see Kratos try to sit up, shaking desperately. He managed to prop himself up on one weak elbow but didn't have the strength to raise his head.

"But you'd have none of that," Mithos hissed, switching from pensive to bitter in a split second. Lloyd felt the sword press harder against his throat, and he tried not to move. "You had to go be with your own kind, didn't you? You couldn't stand us half-breeds. We weren't good enough. I guess even after all those years with us, all the struggles and the triumphs, you were just like all other humans. Ignorant, prejudiced, hateful." Mithos grabbed Lloyd's hair and tugged at it, forcing his chin upward and giving his father a clear view of his throat. "But we can leave your troubled past behind. I want you to watch this, Kratos. I'm going to relieve you of your burdens, I'm going to cleanse your slate, so we can move on." Kratos could barely lift his eyes as Mithos readied Flamberge to draw blood.

I'm going to die here, Lloyd thought. Even after all this, after everything, I'm going to die right now. I was so close…

He closed his eyes and let out a choked sob, preparing for the worst. But when the pain came, it was not in his throat. He was thrown back, spinning, and landed on his injured shoulder, Flamberge clanging to a halt beside him. He let out a cry, tumbling to a stop, and lifted his head. There was his father, arms outstretched, radiant blue wings blooming like petals from his back, wisps of white light evaporating from the tips of his fingers. And there was Mithos, sprawled against the wall, looking taken aback and clutching at his chest where the brunt of Kratos' spell had hit him.

Lloyd knew his father couldn't stand up for long. He scrambled for Flamberge, stumbling toward the two. While Mithos stood distracted by Kratos' sudden display of energy, Lloyd dashed under his father's arm and thrust the sword upward.

It pierced the tender flesh under Mithos' chin and emerged from the back of his head. Lloyd, sure that he had struck a fatal blow, removed the sword, almost smiling. But instead of blood, only white light radiated from Mithos' wounds. The boy smirked slightly, backing up against the wall. "Pathetic," he whispered, and in a flash of yellow light, disappeared.

Lloyd stood thunderstruck for a moment, wondering where the bastard went. He stared at the wall where he had been, cursing, until he heard a dull thump behind him. His father had fallen to the ground, wings rapidly disintegrating. He sheathed his sword and dropped beside Kratos, cradling him.

"What in hell's name _are_ you, dad?" he cried.

"Leave… me," was all Kratos could say.

"Don't be stupid. Get up. Get on my back." He put his father's arm around him and struggled to his feet, dragging the heaver man up with him. His bullet-shot shoulder sent pulses of agony through him, but he struggled to the door.

"No… Leave me… Listen."

"Shut up, dad." Lloyd nudged the door open with his foot, and managed to squeeze them both through the doorway and into the tiny hall. He didn't know how he would manage to get out of here, with the burden of his father's weight. Not to mention the Renegades' orders to kill Kratos on sight. He thought about what he would do if he came across any of them. Certainly not hand Kratos over, certainly not let them kill him. But he didn't know if he was strong enough to defend his dad at this point, so they would have to make their way to the ground unseen, without help. They had to get out of here alone, with only each other, as it had always been.

"Here we go, dad. It's just you and me. Like always. Just going on a trip for the holiday." He muttered all the way down the hall, trying to motivate himself, trying to keep his father conscious. He knew that they both had lost a lot of blood, but if they could make it back to the ground and find help, they might be able to survive. "We're going to go find Noishe. He's coming too."

Kratos failed to respond. Lloyd didn't know whether he was unconscious or dead—he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He focused only on trudging down the hall, putting one foot in front of the other, slowly, slowly making his way to freedom. His legs trembled, his tender shoulder was killing him, and Kratos seemed to get heavier with every step. Blood dripped down Lloyd's legs and pooled under his feet, and with each shaky step he left a dark smear behind him. He huffed, trying to tell himself to keep going, but he was too weak. His foot slipped on a puddle of blood and he stumbled, falling to the floor and dropping his father.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, panting, watching blood from his shoulder drip onto the floor. He tried to get up, but the sheer weight of exhaustion held him down. He looked over at Kratos' limp form and his heart sank. "I'm sorry, dad. I think we're gonna die here."

His father didn't respond. He lay facedown on the floor. Lloyd couldn't tell if he was breathing, so he just crawled by his side and lay down as well. He took his father's hand in his and figured it wouldn't take too long for them to bleed out. Then they would be okay, everything would go back to normal. Better than normal. He would beat his exsphere to the punch, then the pain, the fear would stop. He would have his mother back, they could all be together again...

He was almost looking forward to death. He turned, lay his forehead against his father's unmoving shoulder, and smiled slightly. He felt warm, lazy, as if all he had to do was patiently bleed, and so he closed his eyes and waited for the end.


	25. Sleep

"Lloyd! What in the world do you think you're doing?" Lloyd thought it might be the voice of his mother, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only Raine, dirt smeared across her face, bleeding from her lower lip. He squinted at her, trying to make sure she was real. "Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?" she practically screamed at him, lowering her hands to his shoulder.

A comforting warmth spread from her fingers into his blood, and his mind slowly returned to him. He sat up, suddenly remembering he had a father to rescue. He pushed Raine away and bent under his father, dragging him to his feet, shaking under the weight.

"Your wound, Lloyd!" Raine said. "Put him down, you'll only injure yourself further. He's the one we're supposed to kill, remember?"

Genis emerged behind her, similarly filthy but seemingly unharmed. "Where is everyone?" Lloyd asked, heart dropping. "Is it just you two?"

"Yeah, and this poorly-disguised girl," Genis said as Colette, now without her helmet, appeared from the dusty shadows. Lloyd breathed a sigh of relief, but it was cut short by Raine's insistence that they make short work of his debilitated father.

"Put him down, Lloyd," Raine said. "You know what we have to do. If you want... I can do it so you don't need to."

"_No!_" he hissed passionately. "There's another way. There has to be."

Raine backed off, frowning at his sudden display of ferocity. "I'm sorry. But you know as well as I what needs to happen."

Lloyd looked up at her and saw she was only thinking of the far future, as usual. Unfeeling, splendid Raine, who always did what she must, who could face consequences, so unlike Lloyd, who hopelessly scrambled to save everyone. He knew he would regret it, but he would defend Kratos from her if need be. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Just give us a while," he said desperately. "We'll figure something out."

And then Colette was there, beside him, lifting Kratos' other arm over her shoulder. She looked over and smiled at him, gracefully carrying most of the weight on her strong shoulders. "Lloyd. I believe you. I think we can find another way."

Lloyd managed to smile weakly. "Thank you."

"Do you hear yourselves?" Raine said, exasperated.

"Raine," Genis started quietly. "We found a way to save Colette. We can find a way to save him, too."

Raine sighed. "I should've known it would come to this. Assassination really isn't your style. But if Genis and the Chosen wish it, then… I'll choose to trust you. Just this once." She retained her look of frustration and disdain but Lloyd thought he could see relief creep into her features.

She and Genis took the lead as Lloyd and Colette dragged Kratos down the hall, leaving a thin trail of blood. "Where's Botta?" Lloyd panted.

Colette looked at the ground, frowning. "He's… gone. After you fell through the floor, more of those security drones showed up. He and the others in our unit led them away, telling us to go find you."

"In all likelihood," Raine stated passively, "he's dead. But for now, we should just focus on getting ourselves out of here alive."

They stumbled along for a while in silence, Raine and Genis in the front, Colette and Lloyd staggering behind, weighed down by Kratos' limp body.

"This looks like some sort of service corridor," Raine said quietly, as if afraid she might disturb the sleeping machines that lined the halls. "This may be a waste disposal facility, in which case there will be an exit. Probably more than one."

"Well, that's good to hear," Lloyd gasped, readjusting his father on his shoulders.

"Just keep quiet, follow me, and let Genis and me scout out. We'll take care of any danger we find."

Lloyd didn't know how many hours they wandered through the labyrinthine halls of that rickety facility. Sometime after his legs went numb he stopped counting his steps. He only focused on putting one foot in front of the other, panting, shaking, occasionally groaning with the effort. Colette seemed to do a better job than him carrying the limp body. She tried to get him to let her take the burden, but he refused. His dad was his responsibility; he wouldn't let Colette carry him alone.

He ached, he panted, his exspheres burned, his muscles felt like jelly. But he pressed on, telling himself that his pain would end eventually, that there must be an exit somewhere around here… eventually… His eyelids drooped, his feet tripped over themselves, he could barely stand, much less hold his father up, but to his own surprise he kept on going. Just when he thought there was no end to the insane maze of purple and silver metal, he found himself in front of a white portal.

"At last, an exit," Raine sighed. "But I don't know where it goes. I suppose we have little choice."

"Yeah. Well, Martel hates a coward," Genis smiled nervously, and stepped into the light before his sister could stop him. She shook her head and strode in next, her silhouette dissipating into the dusty air.

Lloyd glanced at Colette and she smiled encouragingly at him. Together they limped into the soft glow of the portal. Lloyd felt the ground fall away from his feet, and for a moment everything became soft, and light. The weight of his father's body fell away from him, his own weight disappeared, and he felt like he had been swept up in a gentle wind.

Stepping out of the other side of the portal left him heavier than ever before. He nearly collapsed when his father's dead weight fell on his shoulders again, but he somehow managed to keep standing, legs shaking unsteadily. He was standing on a pile of rough, volcanic stone. He looked around, at Colette, Genis, and Raine, and then scouted the horizon for any sign of danger.

"It looks like we're near Hima," Raine said. "Yes... there's the road, way down there." She pointed down the slope. "We should carry him to a bed. And then... then I have my work cut out for me."

The sun was still high when they reached the town. Hima still had a few shabby tents here and there, but it looked like most of the refugees had moved on. A few escapees emerged from their lean-tos and helped carry Kratos to the inn. They found him an empty bed, threw him on, and then left, accepting only thanks as payment.

Lloyd stood behind Raine as she examined his father's injuries. "These are very interesting puncture wounds," she said. "Did you find him like this?"

Lloyd, suddenly realizing how exhausted he really was, collapsed on a chair in the far corner of the room. "He was hooked up to some sort of machine. I don't know what it did."

"Well, considering he's Origin's seal, I would guess that it has something to do with harvesting his mana. The machine might've been there to strengthen the seal, but it's only guesswork. If I had been able to see it, then maybe I would've known."

She turned Kratos on his side and examined his punctured back, running her fingers along his bloodied wounds, whispering to herself. Lloyd saw Kratos twitch in what must've been pain.

"Hey," Lloyd said. "Stop prodding him like that."

Raine rolled her eyes and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Lloyd. Honestly. I am a physician and an educator. If anyone's qualified to prod him, it's me." She looked back to her patient. "I know you're concerned for him, Lloyd. That's why I think you should probably leave."

"What? No way. What if he wakes up and I'm not here?" Lloyd didn't know why he was so reluctant to leave his father's side now. When he was growing up he had looked for every way to do just that.

"This isn't going to be pretty," Raine continued. "I've a lot of stitching up to do. I think you should find some food and rest up. I'll let you know how he is when I'm done."

"Come on, Lloyd," Colette wrapped her arm around his. "She's right, I think."

Lloyd couldn't really say no to Colette, not when she looked at him like that, so attentively, so kindly. He nodded and let her lead him out into the lobby, where Genis sat at the bar.

Lloyd and Colette seated themselves beside him. "I ordered us some grub. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Yeah. Me too." Lloyd stared at the wall, thinking deeply. He wondered how many Renegades had survived the raid on Derris-Kharlan, if any. They had all seemed to know it was a suicidal mission. Lloyd was amazed he had even gotten out alive, much less with his father in tow. But he didn't know how long the man would live, after sustaining that much injury. He also didn't know if Yuan would be able to find them, and come finish the job Lloyd had failed to complete. There were so many things he didn't know.

"Lloyd, are you even listening?" Genis asked.

"Huh? Oh. What?"

Genis shook his head. "Here." He slid a plate of meat toward him, motioning for him to eat. Lloyd shoved some into his mouth, but didn't taste anything. He finished his meal without a word, preferring to let Genis and Colette make conversation. Instead, he stared at the wall, wondering, worrying.

When he was done, Colette insisted he lie down. He collapsed on the couch in the lobby and she and Genis hovered over him.

"Is your shoulder okay?" Genis asked.

"Yeah. It's not bleeding anymore."

Genis shook his head. "Raine's gonna get sucked dry if everyone keeps hurting themselves like this. Here, I'll get you something for it. It won't be as good as my sister's, but you gotta work with what you have. She has an emergency to attend to, so you're stuck with me."

"Thanks Genis." Lloyd grunted a little when his friend wrapped up his injury, but it was doing a lot better than it had been earlier. He let Genis smear some strange green stuff on it, which dulled the pain and made his eyes droop. He almost felt comfortable when sleep took him, and he managed to escape dreaming. When he awoke, it was already late afternoon. He sat up and looked over at Colette, who had apparently stayed by his side while he slept.

"Is Raine done yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"How long as it been?"

"About four hours."

"Damn." Lloyd got up and stretched. "I'm gonna go outside for a bit."

"Let me come with you."

Lloyd smiled at her and decided to let her come along, since she seemed so eager to not let him out of her sight. Perhaps she was afraid he would try to secretly interrupt Raine's delicate work to see his father. He didn't mind Colette keeping tabs on him, so he took her arm and led her outside.

The evening was dry and cool. Some of the refugees had built a fire in what looked like an oil drum, and were cooking some stinky, unidentifiable meat over it. Lloyd examined them, searching for a familiar face, even though he knew that the people he would've recognized were probably dead by now. He searched most of all for the man who had first explained the exsphere manufacturing process to him, the one who had been so happy when he learned that Lloyd had killed Kvar. Lloyd figured he was long gone, and that his search was in vain.

But there he was, frying a clump of meat at the end of a stick. He looked frail, starving, even pestilent in the dim light, like whatever disease the exsphere had given him may be contagious. Lloyd strode toward him anyway, Colette in tow, and when the man looked up, he smiled.

"You again, kid! And it looks like the Chosen's with you." He coughed into his hand, and it came away bloody. He wiped it on his trousers and continued frying his dinner.

"You're… surviving," Lloyd smiled sadly at him.

"I do my best. And you, look at you…" The man glanced at Lloyd's exsphere and gasped at its tremendous progress. "Holy shit, kid. What have you been doing to yourself? Even with a crest, that thing is growing like a weed! Take it easy or you'll die before I do."

"I don't plan on it," Lloyd said, but inside, his heart sank. Every day was one day closer to the end. He wondered if Colette would be all right without him, how long she would last with her disease spreading as rapidly as it was. And his father… what would his father say? How mad would he be when he found out that Lloyd had gotten himself caught and murdered by Kvar? Even after all those cautious, tedious years of traveling and hiding?

"Well, take it easy. At least you got a key crest for it. That's a start. You get it from that dwarf?"

"Yeah. He's helped a lot of people from the ranch."

"Good to hear." The man coughed so hard Lloyd thought his lung might come sliding out his mouth. He frowned, agonized by the fact that he couldn't do anything for the poor wretch. He unconsciously toyed with his exsphere and sighed, not sure if he could stick around. He bid the man a solicitous farewell and turned to go.

"Take care of yourself, kid. I'll see you around." The man coughed into his hand again, shaking and hacking for a full minute.

When Lloyd and Colette approached the inn again, she hung her head. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Even still… after all this time, after I've saved myself, I still can't save anyone else. Not him. Not you. No one."

"Colette…" He led her to the inn's porch and took her shoulders in his hands. "I think you should get some rest."

"You want to be left alone, don't you?"

"Well, no, but…"

"All right, Lloyd. But don't go in and bother Raine while she's at work."

"I won't."

He kissed her goodnight, and she retreated into the building. When she was gone, Lloyd turned and watched the stars crawl slowly by.

* * *

"Son, what are you doing?"

Lloyd had not heard his father creep up on him. He jumped, trying to hide his project, but he was small, clumsy, and it fell from his arms onto the rocky riverside. It tumbled across the stones, sticks and ropes flailing.

"What in the world is that?"

"It's a…" Lloyd turned red, embarrassed at his horrid craftsmanship. "It's a boat."

"Lloyd. That's much too small."

"I know. I didn't have enough sticks." Lloyd collapsed at the riverside, hugging his knees and staring into the water.

"Why do you need a boat?" Kratos asked, sitting beside him.

Lloyd watched the shadows of trees dance as the sun disappeared behind them. The first star of evening glinted above. "Because," he said, "I can't be a pirate without a boat."

"Why do you want to be a pirate?"

"So I can sail the world. I can go wherever I want. I can find out where mum went and bring her back."

His father sighed and wrapped an arm around his tiny shoulders. "Lloyd. You have to be a little taller to be a pirate."

"Why?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes. He had wasted so much time already, staying on land, following his dad wherever he went, when he could be out there, searching. His father squeezed his shoulders, and for some reason that just wrung the tears from his eyes.

"Look up there," Kratos said, pointing to the single star glinting in the distance. "That's the bow of an ancient pirate ship. In a little while, a few more stars will appear beside it—that's the figurehead. She was the captain, until an evil witch turned her to wood. So her loyal crew lay her wooden body on the front of the ship, so she would still lead them across the water, ever fearless."

Lloyd sniffed and rubbed his eyes, holding in his pathetic sobs.

"When the Kharlan War came, the boat was so famed for its speed and firepower, it was recruited to lead a naval force of a thousand ships. The crew was paid generously, of course, but they couldn't just pillage and loot as usual, since they had to have a commanding officer aboard to relay orders."

Lloyd didn't quite get it, but it sounded interesting. "Who was the crew?" he asked.

"Well, there was Dogan, the famed pirate, and his six brothers, Captain Deimos and his fearless daughter, there was Hakim, Alfred, Samuel, and one they just called the Skinner. There was Enos the Bloody, who could shoot a cannonball into a man's heart from a mile away. And the soldier aboard was Kratos, who wielded a sword of flame."

Lloyd gasped, pleased. "He has your name, dad."

"I know."

"Were you named after him? Did you know him?"

Kratos chuckled. "Oh, Lloyd, it was so long ago. Far too long ago for anyone to remember. These are all just made-up stories."

Lloyd leaned on his father's chest, listening to the susurrations of the river. He looked up at the sky and could just make out the shape of a beautiful woman, suspended at the bow of a gargantuan ship, her hands thrust forward in encouragement.

"I see it, I see the ship," he said excitedly. "But what's that over there, that one?" Lloyd pointed to a clump of stars twinkling by the horizon.

"Oh. That's a different story. That one isn't about war or adventure. That one's more of a love story."

"Tell it to me."

"All right. Well, there once was a king, and he had five daughters, each more beautiful than the next…"

* * *

"I'm finished," Raine said, emerging into the lobby and closing the door behind her. "I'm afraid all we can do now is wait." She rubbed her forehead, smearing some blood across it. She had bags under her bloodshot eyes, and certainly looked paler than usual.

"Jeez, sis, you look terrible," Genis said, getting up to help her. She collapsed on the lobby's empty couch and groaned. "Wait there, I'll go get some water." He scampered off.

"How did it go?" Lloyd dared himself to ask.

"It's hard to say," Raine sighed, closing her eyes. "I couldn't…" She yawned. "We just need to wait. I did… all I could." By the time Genis returned with a wet cloth and a bucket of water, Raine had already passed out.

Lloyd entered the room while Genis set to work caring for his sister. Lloyd closed the door behind him and approached his father, who lay motionless on the bed. Kratos didn't show any signs of awareness or recovery, but at least he was breathing. He lay on his back, chest and arms cleanly bandaged. Lloyd leaned on him and lay his head over his heart. He heard the steady thump of a heartbeat, agonizingly slow, as usual. He sighed and pulled a chair up beside his father, threw the blanket over him, and watched.

He watched for days. He didn't leave his father's side, didn't sleep, only ate when someone came in with a plate of food and practically force-fed him. When his companions came into the room it was more likely they were checking on him than on his father. Even Raine seemed more worried about his health than the health of her patient.

"Lloyd, are you all right?" she would always ask before entering the room. She didn't knock, and Lloyd didn't mind. There was nothing exciting going on in there anyway. Just him, watching his father sleep. "How is your exsphere?"

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"You should get some rest," she said. "I can watch him for a while."

"No. It's all right."

"He's not going anywhere, Lloyd. Four thousand years can wear a man out."

"You know…" He paused, and Raine looked at him expectantly. "This is the first time in my life I've ever seen him sleep."

"Really."

"Yeah. When I was a kid, he never even seemed to get tired. I'd try to stay up, to see if he ever slept, but I always failed. Except one time, I remember…" He paused for a moment, trying to recollect. "Yeah, I must've been about six; we were staying at some inn in… Asgard, maybe. I decided that I'd stay up all night if I had to, but I would find out what he did while I slept. So I waited and waited, trying so hard not to fall asleep, but also trying to make it seem like I had. You know, he could always tell if I was awake or not, by the way I breathed, I think. It was so weird. Anyway, after a couple hours I heard him leave the room. I thought I had tricked him into thinking I was asleep, but I'm not so sure anymore. I tried to follow him as quietly as I could, looking in all the places I thought he'd be, and you know where I found him? In the kitchen, on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. It was so weird; my dad, the strongest guy ever, my sorta hero, and here he was, trying to get oil stains off the floor like some scullery maid. It took me years to figure out why, and I think it was because we had no money. He had to do things like that because we wouldn't be able to find a bed otherwise. I never talked to him about it. He was always proud… I didn't want him to know I saw him. I never asked him how he got the money to send me to school, but I have a feeling it wasn't nice work."

"Lloyd." Raine put a hand on his shoulder. "It's a hard life, raising a child on one's own. I'm sure whatever he did, he did for you."

"Yeah. I regret it sometimes."

"Why?"

"Well. I always thought he saw me as more of an inconvenience than anything. Like, he wouldn't even _have_ to be scrubbing those floors if it weren't for me. It's like... I felt like he resented me for it, because after I started school he began to treat me differently. As I got older, he became less and less of a hero and more of a jailer. He always tried to keep me out of things… he'd never tell me what it was he did all year round when I was at school. He wouldn't even tell me why he was taking me where he did in the summertime. Sometimes he'd leave me in Palmacosta for weeks before he showed up, with no explanation. I usually found somewhere to stay, but, I don't know, it would've been nice if he'd told me what was going on. Ever."

"Considering his involvement with Cruxis, I wouldn't blame him."

Lloyd looked up at her, afraid she might be taking his side. "Ever since I was old enough to go to school, he suddenly became a no-show in my life. One of those absent dads the counselors at school always talked about. And when he was around, he was impossible. He wouldn't tell me anything that was going on, push me around, and he'd beat me up when I ever got the guts to stand up to him. I hated him, sometimes, I really did."

"Lloyd, you've got to be kidding." Raine sounded frustrated, even angry.

"What?"

"You honestly think that there are any children who don't hate their parents? You honestly think Genis doesn't hate me, at least some of the time? It's a dangerous world, every parent knows that. Especially for you and your father. Especially for Genis and me, being what we are. I _had_ to be a tyrant. I had to be strict, to be firm, to be cruel and no-fun and obdurate. I've ruined Genis' day a thousand times. I've spanked him, boxed his ears, yelled at him, put him to bed with no dinner, and you know why? Because that's what kept him alive. That's what kept him safe. Safe from harm, safe from prejudice, safe from everything. You're mad at your father for being a tyrant? Well, so what? You're lucky enough to have a father at all. And even though he may have been difficult, at least he didn't abandon you. He spent years watching the world suffer, all because he didn't want to leave you alone. You're more fortunate than you know."

Lloyd, thunderstruck by her tirade, sat speechless in his chair while Raine stormed out the door and slammed it behind her. He called after her, getting up and following her out the door, through the lobby, past their confused companions, and out into the afternoon light.

Raine held her head, staring at the ground for a few seconds before turning to Lloyd. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"Nah." Lloyd wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, if anything. "I do a pretty good job of pissing you off."

She smiled slightly, turned and leaned against the balustrade, staring into the distance. "I guess we all have our own... parental issues to work through."

"It seems to be kinda normal," Lloyd offered, and stood beside her, looking over the small balcony and to the town below.

"I know that sometimes I can be… too blunt. But I only speak harshly with you because despite your poor academic performance, your impetuousness, your insufferable stubbornness, I actually… care about you." She muttered the last three words quietly, as if she were afraid someone might overhear. Lloyd didn't care; anything even remotely close to affection from Raine was a step in the right direction. Even if he was a terrible student, even if he upset her far too often.

"I care about you too, Prof." He made sure to say it loudly enough that she turned a little red. She was probably bad at this sort of thing, just like his dad—it seemed that disciplinarians always were. Raine pursed her lips and told him to go back inside, to get himself something to eat and lie down.

He flashed her a mischievous grin and returned to the lobby, shaking off his companions' questions. "Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," he said, before opening the door to his father's room and reentering, planning to resume his vigil.

He regretted leaving his sword in the lobby. He didn't think he'd need it, but at this heart-stopping moment he'd been proven wrong. He clenched his fists and tried to sound threatening. "Get the hell away from him."

Yuan, who leaned over his father's sleeping form, lifted his head and smirked slightly. "Calm yourself, kid. I'm not going to kill him. Now that we have him back, he'll no doubt do it himself. Still, I never should've trusted you to get the job done. What with your failure to kill the Chosen, and all."

Lloyd took a step toward Yuan, preparing to tackle him, to choke the life out of him before he hurt his father, but as he got closer, he noticed that Yuan seemed to be in no state to kill someone. He looked gaunt, tired, frail, his arm hung in a sling across his chest, and he moved like a man about ready to collapse.

All of a sudden Lloyd remembered that they had been on the same side. "Did you get the mana cannon or whatever?" he asked.

Yuan half-smiled, not taking his eyes off Kratos. "Yes. The operation was successful, but barely so. The Renegades are holed up on that island, protecting the cannon while Sheena continues her pact-making."

"Is she okay? And Zelos?"

"Yes, she's fine. Unfortunately, so is his highness. They got out of the whole mess before Mithos' army came down on us. We're holding out all right. It was nice of the Desians to build the cannon on a ridiculously well-fortified remote island, but they're not so nice that they would want to share. You're lucky we're keeping Mithos distracted, or he would've already found Kratos and taken him back. You should probably hide yourselves a bit better. It was a little too easy for me to find you."

"So. What's next?" Lloyd dared himself to ask.

"Well, I suppose eventually we will save the worlds. Split the mana links, acquire the Eternal Sword, kill Mithos, destroy Cruxis, eliminate the Desians, revive the Tree. But in order to do that we must forge a pact ring and make a pact with Origin, and break the seal."

Lloyd thought of the little leather book that his father had left behind, with all its diagrams and notes. He thought back to the chest of treasures in the mountains of Tethe'alla; the rotten, half-burnt wood, the chunk of metal, the weird tools. He wondered if Dirk had the skills to make the ring, provided he had all the materials. But after that… Lloyd didn't know how he could condemn his father. He had a terrible track record of killing people who apparently needed to die to save the world. "Okay. I know a dwarf who can make the ring. Then we can... I will..."

Yuan raised an eyebrow at him. "Lloyd, you're insane if you think I'd trust you to kill anyone, especially after all of your failures. No, I have a bad feeling you'd let the world die to save your own family. You're too much like your father in that." Lloyd glanced at his feet, unsure of what to say. "So I've thought up an alternative. It will be risky, it will require impeccable timing, but it may save Kratos' life."

"What is it?" Lloyd asked, hope returning.

Yuan only stood, sighing. "As soon as he wakes up you need to get out of here. Or else you run the risk of Cruxis finding you. Lloyd, if you want your father to live, you will make sure he does not release the seal until I am present. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. But hold up a minute—"

"I have things to do. So many things, and very, very little time. I will try my best to keep you informed of any new developments. Goodbye, Lloyd. I'll see you soon."

Before Lloyd could stop him, he raised his hands and disappeared in an upward current of electric air. "What the…" Lloyd muttered, but he knew better than to chase after him. He only turned back to his sleeping father, a little more hopeful than before, and continued his vigil until he was too tired to stay awake.


	26. Wake

Lloyd and Colette lay side-by-side, in the inn's last unoccupied room, holding one another. Every time Colette touched him, the uncertainty and hatred inside him crept back into his exsphere, and for the few moments when they were together, he felt no pain. With her, fear seemed to disappear and hope instead filled him up.

The second, third and fourth times they did this were certainly not as nerve-racking as the first, but still, Lloyd couldn't help wondering if he was doing this whole thing right. Colette didn't seem to mind that he had no idea about… well, anything. And she seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with her own ailing body, maybe because she had Lloyd's to compare it to. But Lloyd liked to think that as long as she knew he loved every bit of her, even the diseased parts, she might learn to love them too. She was certainly not shy about expressing her affection for his less-than-beautiful left arm. She liked to hold it close to her while she let her other hand explore him, touching his skin, running her fingers along his scars and injuries, and asking about them.

She touched a tiny scar on his right cheek. "Where is this from?"

"Bandits. When I was nine."

She frowned. "How about this one?" That one was a burn on the inside of his wrist.

"I burnt myself at Dirk's. Making your key crest."

"Oh. Sorry. How about this one?"

"That's from a fight at school."

"This one?"

"A present from my dad. Sword training, if I remember right."

She counted them, moving from his face to his shoulders, stopping around his ribs, because for almost every mark below that he would just answer her query with "At the ranch."

When she lay her head on his shoulder and squeezed him, he thought she might just be bored of their game, but she said, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"That you had to go through that. That I didn't come rescue you earlier."

"It's not your fault, Colette, I—" A muffled voice outside their door stopped him mid-sentence. "Oh shit," he hissed.

Colette had heard it too, and struggled to cover herself with the sheets before Zelos burst through their door, already halfway through his greeting: "—hell have you guys been up to?" He fell silent when he saw them sitting next to one another, but then a broad grin crept onto his face. He covered his mouth mischievously and gasped with pure elation. "Oh. My. Goddess. Loyd! Colette! Right _on_, you two! Doin' the _nasty_!"

"Get out, Zelos!" Lloyd said.

"What the hell are you—" Sheena appeared behind him, took one look at them and grabbed Zelos' shoulder. "Come on, you perv." She dragged him through the doorway, but not before Zelos could lean in and shout: "Remember Lloyd, the Goddess gave you a tongue for a reason—"

Sheena shoved him out the door, but turned and gave them a thumbs-up and a toothy grin. "Keep it up, you two," she stage-whispered before slamming the door behind her.

Lloyd and Colette sat in silence for a moment.

"We have some weird friends," Lloyd said.

Colette burst out laughing, and he found himself joining her, dissipating the awkward silence that hung over them. To be frank, Lloyd was a little surprised to find that Sheena and Zelos hadn't already assumed they were doing what they'd been doing, given their propensity for vulgarity and dirty-mindedness.

Lloyd stayed with Colette for a while, waiting for the shock of their discovery to wear off, before getting off the bed and pulling on his clothes.

"I guess we'd better go greet them properly," he said. "Pretend like nothing's happened."

Lloyd found Zelos and Sheena in the lobby, chatting with Raine and Genis about their adventures and their successes.

"God, you shoulda seen the freak," Zelos said. "Rodyle, or whatever. He had some sorta freaky dragon fetish."

"Why is it always a fetish with you?" Sheena muttered before Zelos continued with the account of their fight with and ultimate triumph over the Desian lord.

When they saw Lloyd and Colette, they stopped their story, greeting them all over, as if this was the first time they'd met in months. Lloyd thought they sounded a little suspicious, but he dealt with it inwardly.

"So, kid," Sheena smiled. "Show us the man behind the boy we all know."

"What? Oh. All right." Lloyd shrugged, leading them into the bedroom that housed the sleeping Kratos.

When Sheena got a good look at him, she turned, nodding approvingly. "So this is your dad, huh? He's quite the looker for a man his age."

"Ew, Sheena," Lloyd grimaced. That would be a pair of which he could not approve. And neither could Zelos, apparently, who crossed his arms and pouted obnoxiously at her.

"What?" she said. "Just saying, Lloyd. If you age as well as he has you'll have no problem with the ladies."

"Gods' sake, stop," Lloyd said.

"The years have treated him quite well, considering," Raine admitted. Her statement was made worse by the fact that she was his acting physician and therefore was responsible for changing his bandages and sponge-bathing him.

"Gross, Raine, not you too."

She shrugged, smiling slightly. Lloyd groaned, regretting he had to hear any of this. He never suspected it'd be Zelos who would come to his rescue.

"All right, all you sick perverts, leave the poor man to his rest." He shoved Sheena out the door, and the rest trickled out behind him.

"So, what are you even doing here?" Lloyd asked them.

"Well, I've already made pacts with the Tethe'allan spirits," Sheena said. "Now we're over on this side, securing enough power for the cannon. The next one is at the Tower of Mana."

"Which one?" Lloyd asked.

"Well, two. Luna. And Aska."

"Aska?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

"Once." Lloyd hoped Aska wouldn't give Sheena as much trouble as it had given him, all those years ago. Not that the giant bird had meant to ruin his day. "Good luck," he told her.

"Yeah, thanks. Well, we thought we'd visit before we got on our way. Yuan told us where you were, but honestly, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You guys should probably be more careful."

"Yeah. I know." Lloyd didn't bother mentioning that the half-elf in question had paid him a visit.

Zelos and Sheena stayed for a couple days, stuffing their faces and otherwise being what Raine called a "horrid nuisance." After a while of being a little too nice to (and a little too nosy toward) Lloyd and Colette, they took off.

"So," Sheena started as they loaded up their Rheiard, "tell me if I've got this right. You think you know where all the materials for the pact ring are?"

"Yeah. Here, I wrote it down for you," Lloyd handed her a slip of paper onto which he had hastily written down the coordinates his father had drilled into him for so long.

"All right. Got it. Will do." She smiled and crawled up into the machine's saddle. "What about you? Where are you headed?"

"We're gonna take a boat toward Iselia," Lloyd said. "After dad wakes up."

"When you say 'boat', you mean one of those creaky wooden things?" Zelos laughed.

"Yeah. Meet us there when you're done."

"Don't worry, Lloyd. You get on your little bumpkin rowboat." Zelos shook his head in pity. "We'll take the Rheiards and get done traveling both worlds in half the time. Gods, I can't imagine what it was like growing up in this backwards hole. Living your whole life in it, my Goddess."

"Uh. Okay."

"You have all my condolences," Zelos smiled. "Also, remember to use your tongue."

"What?"

Zelos shook his head as Sheena dragged him up onto the machine behind her. "Poor, poor Colette," was all he said before Sheena waved goodbye and they shot up into the sky.

* * *

Kratos sat up, waking slowly, comfortably. He sucked in the mountain air, yawning, and examined his surroundings. He was in a house, small but sturdy, with only one room. The double bed was pushed into the far corner, and a little cot snuggled in beside it. A few bookshelves lined the walls, a small table sat in the middle of the room, and beyond that, a sink, stacked with dirty dishes. Light poured in through the kitchen window, and sitting on the counter, characteristically neglecting her domestic chores, sat Anna. When she saw he was awake, she grinned at him.

"Morning, love."

"Where…" Kratos didn't know what to make of all this. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, stretching. "Did I… did I build this?" he asked.

"Of course you did," Anna answered. "It's not a bad job. Especially since you're not a carpenter." Kratos surveyed the walls, the creaking ceiling. Was this really the best he could do? For Anna, for his child?

"I guess I'm not," he admitted. "Where's Lloyd?"

"He's outside, as usual. He really likes the garden we put in the front. He especially likes destroying it." She smiled and slid off the counter as Kratos walked up to the kitchen window and glanced into the morning light. There, on a patch of grass, was his son, chasing Noishe in a circle. Lloyd couldn't keep up with the dog on his little legs, but he tried his best, laughing. There was a dirty bouquet of hastily-plucked flowers in his hand, which he brandished like a sword.

"He's growing so fast. Turning six next week," Anna said, wrapping her arms around Kratos and resting her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her hands, folded gently on his stomach. They were smooth, pale, devoid of scars, scales or exspheres. They were not the hands that had gone after Lloyd, spindly and deformed, ready to rip their son apart. "I was going to make him some sort of cake, but you know how bad I am at that."

"I'll make it," Kratos said.

"Oh, good. Thanks, dear. I have a different present for him. It's a little bow and arrow I made from a piece of birch. Don't look at me like that, you old badger. It barely works, so it's not dangerous. The arrow is just a stick with a lump of clay at the end. I know how nervous you get about him." She released his waist and sat down at their wobbly little table. Kratos figured he must've made that, too. "But you know, you should let him wander a little. Go on a few adventures, maybe let him visit with some of the village boys. When I was a kid, my mother kicked me and my brothers out of her house at dawn, telling us not to come back until dinner was ready. The property was her domain, and we had to wander the fields, starving, until she let us back inside. Those were the days." She removed her ivory pipe from her pocket and loaded the bowl.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Kratos asked her. He'd always hated the smell.

"Yes. Yes I do," she answered, lighting the tobacco and taking a few puffs. "And if you stay with me long enough you'll start wanting some too."

"I doubt it." Kratos looked out the window and into their green garden, but he couldn't find Lloyd. His heart skipped a beat as his mind went through all the possible reasons Lloyd would be out of his sight, none of them good. "Where'd our son go?" he asked nervously.

"I don't know," Anna answered, blowing a smoke ring and admiring it as it dissipated in the air. "You're going to have to go find him if you want him back."

Kratos cocked his head. "What?"

Anna lowered her pipe, looking at him. "You need to leave. You need to go find him."

Kratos knelt next to her, hand on her shoulder. "Anna. Come with me. Let's go together."

"I can't, Kratos, and you know that. You know that too well." She lowered her gaze, and watched a tiny bit of tobacco smolder in her pipe. "Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it."

"Look. I know it can be hard, especially alone, especially with a kid like Lloyd. I know he's a little terror, but he's _our_ little terror. And he needs you. Badly. Now more than ever."

"He needs both of us."

Anna reached for his hand and squeezed it, leaning in. "Kratos… I know I'm not very good at being stern, but... if you're going to be this stubborn, I'll to have to try. Listen to me. Listen well. _Do not worry about me_. I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait for you… where summer doesn't end. You know, at the edge of the water. Just like that old song."

Kratos lowered his head to her hand and let out a pathetic sob. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll be here, waiting. You need to let me go. Don't abandon Lloyd for me. I would never forgive you."

Kratos struggled to his feet, still holding her hand, trying to recall the words to that song she had sung so often, so long ago. "Anna… Please." She didn't budge, and he knew what he had to do. "Just... kiss me once..."

She smiled. "All right. Just one kiss, before you go. Then get out of here. You have work to do."

* * *

"Dad?" Lloyd muttered when he saw his father's eyelids flicker. "Dad?" He tried to call Kratos back to him, to bring him home, back into the uncomfortable world of consiousness.

Eventually, after a few minutes of twitching and weakly groaning, Kratos cracked his eyes open. When he saw Lloyd attentively leaning over him, his eyes opened wide, as if he had no idea what he was seeing.

"How… did you find me?" he asked.

Lloyd grinned. "I'm your son, dad. I'll always be able to find you." To his surprise, Kratos graced him with a weak smile.

"You've… grown," he said, lifting his hand toward Lloyd's cheek. Since he hadn't quite regained control of his body yet, what was no doubt meant to be a caress turned into a feeble slap to Lloyd's face. Lloyd smiled, figuring this was his anticipated beating, and reached up to hold Kratos' hand there.

Kratos saw the red exsphere on Lloyd's green, sickly hand, and his smile disappeared. "Who… who did this to you?" he groaned.

"Kvar."

"Where is he?" Kratos growled, trying to lift his head.

"Whoa, dad. Relax. He's already dead. I killed him."

Kratos let out a quick breath. "You did, did you? You could've waited for me. I would've liked… to have a few words with him." Kratos seemed to have trouble catching his breath. He grabbed Lloyd's hand and brought it to his ear, as if he meant to listen to the sounds of the steadily growing exsphere.

"Um… what are you doing, dad?" Lloyd asked.

"It's not too late. I need to go." Kratos tried his best to push himself up, but his arms shook, his body was barely strong enough to move at all.

"Hold up a minute," Lloyd said. He wasn't going to let Kratos get away with not telling him anything anymore. Not after so many years of being kept in the dark. "You're not going anywhere."

Kratos only groaned and tried to pull himself out of bed, until Lloyd pushed him back down. "Don't try to stop me," Kratos said.

Lloyd couldn't help but think it was a little funny, that after all these years of him trying to run away, he was the one keeping his father in line. "Not used to being helpless, huh?" he said. "It's not very fun, is it?"

"Don't get smart with me, Lloyd, just help me up." Instead, Lloyd just sat by his side, refusing to give in. Kratos, with what little strength he had, tried to push Lloyd out of the way, managing to swing one leg off the side of the little bed. A short, pathetic struggle ensued, which ended with Kratos stumbling off the side of the bed and onto Lloyd, pinning him under his heavy, limp weight. Lloyd struggled to push him off, but Kratos' body didn't seem to be too thrilled to move.

"You're impossible," Lloyd grunted, arms shaking as he lifted his father off him and rolled him onto his back on the floor. Kratos groaned in pain but was still too weak to get up. "I hate you, dad," Lloyd told him.

Kratos smiled slightly. "I know."

Lloyd hadn't seen the door open and Raine enter. "Lloyd!" he heard a concerned shout. "You're endangering my patient!"

"Well, gee, Professor, if he's your responsibility, then why don't you keep him under control?" Lloyd couldn't help shouting back.

"Gods above," Raine muttered. "He's awake for three seconds and you two are already fighting."

Lloyd pushed himself up, watching his father struggle on the ground in front of him.

"Lloyd, help me get him back into bed," Raine said.

"No," Kratos protested. "I need to go."

"Shut up, dad," Lloyd said, grabbing him under the shoulders. "You're in no state to go anywhere."

"And if you ever want to get out of that state, you'll let us help you," Raine grunted, grabbing his legs. "Good Goddess, he's heavy. Here, just lay him back down there… that's… good. Oh, dear. You keep him quiet, I'll get him something for his pain."

Lloyd managed to get Kratos to stay in the bed, not without some complaining. "I swear, dad, we will tie you down if need be," he warned, but that didn't stop Kratos from feebly trying to escape.

When Raine returned with a cup of what could only be some painkilling narcotic, she practically forced it down Kratos' throat.

"There. Nice and easy. He should be asleep in… well, very, very soon. Oh look, there he goes."

"Wow. That was some potent stuff," Lloyd said.

"Isn't it? It's from Boltzmann. It's a higher dose of what I gave you for your nightmares." She sat down next to him and examined Kratos, "I wonder if… after all that, if his mind is still intact."

"Oh, he's always been at least a little crazy," Lloyd offered. "He thinks he can do everything by himself. He doesn't listen to anyone. He thinks he's always right."

"He's a bit like you, then."

Lloyd groaned. "Not too much, I hope."

It took a few hours for Kratos to come to. When he opened his eyes, Lloyd could tell he was too dazed to try to get up. "Are you all right?" Lloyd asked him.

"Yes... Thank you." His eyes were dull and and his words barely coherent, but at least he wasn't belligerent enough to fight his way to freedom. Lloyd wondered how long he would be like this, and how high a dose of that medicine Raine had given him. Or, worse yet, if something really had happened to his mind when he was plugged into that machine for so many long months.

"You need rest. Go back to sleep," Lloyd told him, and he closed his eyes. Lloyd squeezed his shoulder, grateful that for once in his life his dad was finally listening to him. Kratos' hand found its way out of the sheets and closed around Lloyd's.

"Stay here..." his father whispered. "Mithos..."

Lloyd suddenly found himself short of breath, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "No, dad. It's me, Lloyd."

But Kratos didn't hear him. He was already asleep.

* * *

Kratos' recovery was slow and painful, made even more so by the urgency to get out of Hima and move on to Iselia. Every hour they stayed there and let Kratos lay in bed was another hour Mithos would be able to search for him. Lloyd wanted nothing more than to sit his father down and wrestle answers from him—answers about his mother, about Cruxis, Mithos, the Great War... but every time Lloyd found an opportunity to ask, Kratos was either asleep or under the debilitating influence of one painkiller or another.

So Lloyd decided the best thing they could do was pack their bags and move out, no matter how slow his father made the journey.

"I just can't get through to him, Colette," Lloyd said, stuffing a large shirt into his bag. "He keeps on calling me by names that aren't mine. He doesn't make any sense. I keep trying to ask him questions and he can't answer them."

"I'm sorry," was all Colette could say as she packed her things. Lloyd was struggling to cram all of his stuff and the items he had bought for his father in his pack, so he handed over a few things to Colette to put in hers.

"It's like he's caught in some sort of dream. Raine says she's lowering his dosage, and that he'll be fine, that he's just not used to his medicine yet, but I don't know... What if he lost his mind up there? All alone, tied up to that machine."

"Lloyd." Colette closed her pack and picked it up. "Raine wouldn't say those things if she didn't mean them. She isn't like that. She wouldn't lie to you to make you feel better."

Oddly enough, that did relieve Lloyd a little. He managed to stuff everything into his bag and haul it over his shoulder. He and Colette made their way down the hall to the room where Kratos was kept, and found him fully dressed, standing on his own. It had taken him a full day to sit up, so being able to walk on his own so soon was pretty miraculous, in Lloyd's opinion. But he wasn't going to make Kratos walk all the way back to Iselia, only to the nearest harbor. "Are you ready to go?" he asked him.

Kratos nodded. He still looked a little dazed, but he wasn't speaking nonsense anymore. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Lloyd took this as a sign he might be getting back to normal. He was at least partially coherent, enough so that he could manage to to ask Lloyd what he had been up to while he had been locked away in the cramped prison of Derris-Kharlan.

So as they made their slow way out of Hima, Kratos limping behind with a walking stick Lloyd had found him, he told him everything. He told him about Tethe'alla, Sheena, Yuan, the Chosen, both the Chosens... and Kratos listened calmly, attentively. Lloyd didn't know if his composure was a result of his ability to adapt to his new situation, or if it was the heavy drugs Raine had been giving him. The first few days, while they headed too slowly toward the northern sea, he asked Lloyd the same questions over and over—how did he find him, why did he come back for him, who were all these people, why did he feel so strange... By the end of the third day, the ocean came into view, and Kratos stopped repeating himself. He abandoned his walking stick by the side of the road and insisted that he was fine.

Because Lloyd had to reiterate so many times during his narrative, he hadn't yet arrived at the part where he'd been taken to the ranch. He thought he might as well skip over that part and hope that his dad wouldn't notice. But when they set up camp that night, Lloyd could tell that his father was close to being his old, acute self again. He suddenly didn't want to tell that part of the story—he didn't want to relive any of those moments and he didn't want his father to fret over him.

Lloyd lit the fire and sat down beside his father, removing his boots and warming his feet by the flames. "Dad?"

"Yes, Lloyd?" Kratos sat and stared into the fire a little too intently.

"Are you back with us? How's your brain?"

"It's... fine, I think. Whatever painkiller your doctor had me on was... quite effective. But I think I'm all right now."

"Raine. Raine's the doctor, remember?"

"Yes. And her brother, your friend from school, Genis. And Colette, the Chosen. You must've told me this a hundred times."

"Just about." The three in question were making themselves busy, gathering wood for the fire, setting up a tent, not bothering to listen to Lloyd and his father talk.

Kratos sighed. "Well, I think my head has cleared up enough to listen to the remainder of your story. I'd really like to know how you escaped Kvar. And... put an end to him."

Lloyd's lip curled a little bit. He was tired of telling that particular tale, of reliving all the pain and fear. Instead, he wanted to know what his father had been hiding from him all these years. He wanted a long, cogent, informational explanation, but he knew he wasn't going to get one. What he wanted to know most was a subject so delicate he didn't know if his father would up and run away at the mere mention of it. He probably wouldn't get very far, but you never knew. The bastard had wings, he could probably fly away. Lloyd knew the only reason he stuck around now was because Lloyd had convinced him that they really were on their way to forge the pact ring he had been trying to make for so many years, and not galavanting across the countryside for fun.

Lloyd wondered if Kratos was coherent enough at this point to tell him what he wanted to hear. Before he could muster up the courage to ask him about his mother, Kratos spoke.

"She's dying, you know," he said quietly, looking at Colette. She sat wrestling with her bedroll, and in the dim firelight Lloyd could make out a tiny patch of discolored skin on her cheek. She couldn't hide her sickness from everyone for long.

"I know," Lloyd answered.

"It's a rare condition, but every once in a while, a Chosen rejects the Cruxis Crystal. Or maybe it's the other way around. I've seen it before. There's only one person I know who's cured it, though."

"Who?" Lloyd asked, hopeful.

"Mithos." Lloyd deflated. No way in hell was he about to hand Colette over to him for maintenance. "He may heal her yet, if she's of some use to him."

"Yeah, well we don't need him. Raine's gonna fix it." Lloyd paused. "And what use would Colette be to Mithos? I think it's about time you told me about him."

"Lloyd," Kratos turned back to the fire to escape his son's glare. "Can this wait?"

"No."

Kratos sighed. "I... I never wanted to you know any of this. I tried my best to keep you out of the whole mess, I really did. I didn't want you hurt. But it looks like I didn't do a very good job."

"No, you didn't," Lloyd admitted. "So tell me about Mithos."

When Kratos spoke, he spoke slowly, haltingly, as if it took great effort to say what he needed to. "Mithos... Mithos was a bright pupil, and a kind boy. He was always trying to do what he thought was right, but as you probably already know, he was born into the era of the Kharlan War. It was hard on him, but he tried his best to alleviate suffering, to end violence. He and his sister both dedicated themselves to that cause. I stayed with them, well... partly because I was wanted as a deserter and couldn't possibly find company anywhere else. But mostly I believed in him. He was strong, he was kindhearted, and he was so sure that he could end the War. I clung to him, I suppose, because he was so hopeful. He was a kind of beacon in a world that had lost all meaning to me. And he did it, by all the gods, he did it. The Kharlan War ended by his hand. But... things change. People change. After Martel died, he was different. He started to think that he would be able to bring her back, that he could do the impossible. After all, he could, couldn't he? He had split the world, he had ended the War. He thought he could stop death.

"Maybe that was where he went wrong. Maybe that's where we all went wrong, thinking we could live our lives never accepting death. We had all become so powerful over the years... and we had Mithos to thank for it. We had him to thank for ending the War, and we believed in him. We all believed that we could bring back the dead. The most terrifying part was that we absolutely _could_. We had successfully preserved Martel's soul in the seed of the Great Kharlan Tree, and all we needed to do was find a suitable host for it. So we spent hundreds of years developing the ritual of the Chosen, not only as a system for regulating mana flow, but to find a proper vessel for Martel. We created and cultured an entire belief system centered on that ritual, and we established ourselves as its leaders. We, much like the Chosen, gave up a part of what made us people, in order to become seraphim. It was the symbolism, I think, that convinced me for so long that our cause was righteous. We were angels, _actual_ angels, guiding a sinful world toward salvation.

"At first, I thought it was the right thing to do. We all loved Martel, none of us wanted to see her go. But as time wore on and Mithos grew more and more obsessed with bringing her back, Yuan and I began to realize that the well-intentioned endeavor was doing more harm than good. People on the worlds below were suffering, dying, because of the mana imbalance we created. I just thought that the faster we made Mithos happy, the faster this could all end. He was the closest thing I had to a family, so I wanted him to be happy. But I also wanted him to stop hurting the world, so I did my best to bring Martel back.

"Yuan, however, was never a man for whom the ends justified the means, so he turned against us. He hid it well, and neither of us knew of his defection for a long time. About the time I found out Yuan had betrayed us was the same time I found out about Mithos' new plan. It was a program designed to eliminate the race he felt was responsible for Martel's death. 'The Age of Lifeless Beings,' he called it. I think that was when I woke up to his insanity. I was never able to see that all this time, that kind boy had a monster inside him, just waiting to wake up..." He trailed off before turning to Lloyd and frowning. "This isn't your battle, Lloyd. You shouldn't have to fight it."

Lloyd glanced down at his exspheres. "I'm part of this world, dad. Of course it's my battle."

"Mithos is not your responsibility. He belongs to me and Yuan."

"He tried to hurt Colette," Lloyd said quietly. "He tried to hurt you. And he... he's behind all those human ranches." Lloyd rubbed his hand unconsciously. "So don't pretend like you can do this alone. Don't pretend like you deserve to do it alone. Yggdrasill has hurt all of us. So what if he's your fault? He's still all of our responsibility."

Kratos gave Lloyd a look that made his heart squeeze up, but he couldn't tell if it was a gaze of love, or concern, or dissatisfaction. Maybe a mix of all three. Kratos sighed and lay down, lifting his face to stare at the sky. Lloyd lay back and stared with him. He found it hard to believe that somewhere out there, somewhere very close, the world of Derris-Kharlan floated, filled to the brim with those lifeless beings Mithos had created. Lloyd couldn't help but admire Mithos a little, regardless of his travesties. Mithos had power that Lloyd could only dream of, power that could change the world, wipe out hatred, power that could even bring back the dead. If only he had that kind of power...

"Lloyd, are you hungry?" A voice from the other side of the fire brought him back down from the stars and Colette came toward him, bowl outstretched. "Sir Kratos, would you like some?" she asked.

"No, thanks." Kratos hadn't eaten since his return, but he would sleep if given enough of Raine's potent analgesic. Lloyd thanked her and took the bowl from her, trying to make his thoughts drift away from the darker regions of desire, but they had already wandered too deep. Resurrection, he thought, was just another form of regeneration, wasn't it? Where was the immorality in that? Where was the insanity in that? Why should we accept death when we can have power over it?

No, Lloyd told himself. It shouldn't be like that. Think of the Desians, think of the havoc they wreak. The people they torture, kill... they're all under Mithos' orders. There's always a price to pay when you have that kind of power. Always a price... Lloyd wondered if he would be willing to pay it.

"Lloyd." His father's hand on his shoulder brought his thoughts back to the present. "You look upset."

"It's nothing," Lloyd said, and focused on his soup, burying those disquieting thoughts in the back of his mind. But his father's hand didn't leave his shoulder—perhaps Kratos thought that as long as he kept contact with him, he might be able to alleviate some of Lloyd's emotional burdens. Lloyd didn't have the heart to tell him how wrong he was.


	27. Ship

Lloyd stared at the night sky, watching the stars turn slowly overhead. The best view of the cosmos was on the deck of a boat, he thought. Since the moon was new, and there were no lights out here in the middle of the ocean, he could see everything. In fact, the sky was so bright that it was difficult to even separate constellations from their dimmer counterparts, but he watched anyway, picking out a shape here and there, and a story.

He heard a shuffling behind him, and didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He only stared upward, into the abyss above him, drawing shapes in his mind. "Did you know that the stars are the same in Tethe'alla and Sylvarant?" he said. No answer. "I figured you did. But the stories are different. Sometimes the constellations are the same, but the tales behind them depend on which world you're in. Like that one, the one you taught me when I was little, the figurehead of a pirate ship. In Tethe'alla she's actually a monster that turns people to stone. The clump of stars behind her isn't the ship, but it's her thick tail. It's some sort of alligator tail, or something. I dunno, Zelos wasn't very good at explaining it."

Still no answer. Lloyd heard wood creak beneath his father's feet, and he came to lean over the side of the ship, next to his son.

"There's still a lot to learn about them," Lloyd found himself saying. "I'm not so smart, but maybe I can try." He paused. "So, why are the moons different, but the stars the same?"

Kratos let out a small sigh. "That would take forever to explain. Even I don't understand it completely."

Lloyd stared in silence for a few moments, listening to the gentle splash of the waves against the creaking hull. "So why did you do it? Rip the world apart, I mean."

"I thought… we all thought it was the only way to stop the War. The only way to fix everything. And it did, in the short term. But it did unleash a plethora of other problems. Mana depletion, for one."

"Then…" Lloyd hesitated for a moment. "Then how do I know that what I'm doing now will be good in the long run? How do I know what I'm doing isn't wrong?"

"You don't, Lloyd. You rarely ever do. That's just part of life. That's part of growing up. You will always make mistakes, even with the best intentions. The real question is if you will be able to face the consequences of those mistakes."

Lloyd laughed a little, heart hurting. "So far, I do a pretty crappy job of that. This whole time I've just been running away from my failures. I was going to kill the Chosen to save you, to save the world, and I failed. Then I was going to kill you to save the Chosen and the world. I also failed. I've just screwed up so many times… I keep vowing to fix everything, to make up for my mistakes, but when the time comes… I chicken out. I can't bring myself to make those kinds of choices."

Kratos moved a little closer and lay a hand on Lloyd's shoulder. "When I was your age, I was already fighting a war I didn't believe in. I was fighting to survive, but I never knew if it was right or not. Some others from my country, they knew. They refused to enlist, but the punishment for an able-bodied deserter was death. So when they had no other option, they took to cutting off their thumbs so they couldn't hold a weapon. They were ridiculed as cowards, traitors, weaklings, but I couldn't help wondering which took more courage—killing a man for a cause you don't believe in, or mutilating yourself to avoid killing at all. I still don't really know the answer, but I do know that after four thousand years, it takes more courage to practice mercy than violence. By letting the Chosen live, by letting me live, you've proven yourself a stronger man than I ever was. I… I was taught that things can only be solved one way… and unfortunately, sometimes it's true. Sometimes, violence is the only option. Just remember that."

Lloyd choked up, trying to swallow the sob waiting at the bottom of his throat. Maybe now was the time to broach the subject. Maybe there would be no other time. "Is… is that what you told yourself when you killed her?"

Lloyd heard Kratos take in a short breath, as if punched in the stomach. Anna was always Lloyd's trump card, nothing would change that. "I…" Kratos could barely start, but Lloyd waited for him. He'd been waiting so long for this. "I told myself… plenty of things. When I did it. After I did it. Years after. I tried to justify my actions to myself for so long. She was going to kill you, she was insane, incurable, violent… Once her exsphere went out of control, there was nothing that could bring her back." Lloyd thought of those horrifying stories he had heard at the ranch, about people whose exspheres had driven them mad, turned them into monsters, and he looked down at his arm. Kratos followed his gaze, and Lloyd wondered if he was already halfway there, a hatred-filled monster, blind to the world. Kratos' hand found his sickly one, and he continued. "She turned into something that wasn't Anna. She wasn't your mother anymore. She tried to _kill_ you, Lloyd. At the time, I wasn't thinking about anything, except how I was going to save you. I was just trying to save you… But afterward, I told myself so many stories. I tortured myself for so long, trying to right the wrong I did. But I know, I will always know that…" Kratos couldn't finish, and Lloyd didn't really want him to. "I expect you will never forgive me."

Lloyd stared out into the water, not daring to look at his father. "I don't know if I can."

"I understand." Kratos turned to go.

"But," Lloyd started before his dad could wander off in his misery, "if it was to save me, then… I'm sure mum would've forgiven you. And if she would've, then I can at least try."

Lloyd felt a a tug on his hand, and he turned to look his father in the face. Behind the eternally youthful skin, the strong features untouched by time, Lloyd could see a look of ancient weariness in his eyes. Gods, he did look old, so damn old. Lloyd got an eerie feeling in his stomach that his father was about to leave him, that he was about to disappear into the night. So before Kratos had the chance to escape him, he embraced his father about the waist and squeezed him tight. He felt strong arms wrap around him, and now sure that they would stay together, at least for a moment, and he lay his head on Kratos' chest and let himself cry.

"Don't do it, dad," he sputtered. "Don't leave me alone."

"I have to, Lloyd. It's the only way. Besides, you've grown so much. You don't need me anymore."

"I do, I need you. Don't do it."

"I can't be around forever, you know."

"Is four thousand years not forever?" Lloyd squeezed tighter, afraid that if he let go, his father would float away, fly away into the starry abyss. "You can live, dad. Yuan says he knows a way. He'll—"

"Yuan," Kratos almost snorted. "Yuan has always been a fool, Lloyd. But a well-meaning one. Don't let him trick you into believing anything impossible."

"Dad…" Lloyd lifted his head and looked into Kratos' face. "At least let me die with you. We can release the seal together. It won't be long until my exsphere kills me, anyway."

"It won't kill you. I won't let you die before I do. You have plenty of things to do here. You have a life ahead of you. I... I have only done damage to this world. It will be better off when I'm gone."

"Don't say things like that."

Kratos only gripped him tighter, and Lloyd closed his eyes. He listened to the waves curl against the wooden hull, listened to his father's quiet, slow heartbeat, his own ragged breathing, and beneath all of it, beneath the sounds of life and suffering and the world, he swore he could hear a high-pitched ring, an unearthly, silver noise, and he knew it was the stars.

* * *

Sailing to Iselia was smooth but tedious, and when Kratos didn't disappear for hours at a time (Lloyd had no idea what private business he had to attend to in a boat far from land), he would stand by, saying little, just watching Lloyd and occasionally smiling slightly. Genis and Colette admitted to be fascinated by him, but whenever they approached him to ask about his past or his wings or his plans, he would either brush off their inquiries or answer with such curt reluctance they felt as if they had offended him somehow. Several times Lloyd had to assure them that his father was just naturally unapproachable, and they shouldn't worry about him.

But after Genis and Colette left him alone, he would come to Lloyd to ask about them. Especially Colette.

"Do you love her?" Kratos asked him one night. Lloyd didn't know if his father was concerned for him or just trying to embarrass him, as fathers always did, but he answered truthfully.

"I think so."

Kratos closed his eyes slowly, satisfied by the answer. "She's a sweet girl. Don't hurt her."

"What?" Lloyd looked up at him, confused. "Why would I do that?" But as he watched his father's back retreat into the shadows, he suspected that all of Kratos' anguish came not from being hurt, but from hurting others. Purposefully, inadvertently, strangers, loved ones—Kratos was the type of man who left a trail of blood in his wake, even if he didn't mean to. Maybe it came from having too much power, or too much passion. I will not turn into my father, Lloyd told himself. I will never be like him.

During the trip, Kratos seemed to spend a lot of time in his own head, and at this point, Lloyd couldn't really blame him. Still, he was thankful that Kratos was again present in his life at all, even if he never spoke until he and Lloyd were alone.

A few days into their journey, in the hull of the ship, Raine examined Lloyd's hand. Kratos sat nearby, frowning, sorting through the necessities Lloyd had bought him at Hima. Lloyd was sure all his gifts were probably the wrong size, the wrong make, and would only be met with disapproval, but he didn't have time to linger on Kratos' disappointment when Raine was having a field day with his scaly disease.

"This… I'm sorry, Lloyd, but this is fascinating. Does it feel better?"

"A bit." Ever since his skin had gone from swollen and tender to dry and scaly, the constant agony had receded to a dull but irritating itch. He always had to keep himself from scratching at it, but at least it wasn't so painful anymore.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Raine asked. Kratos had pulled out a small pipe Lloyd had bought him and was now filling it.

"Yes. Yes I do," he said.

Lloyd had learned to like the smell, after so many years of it. It usually meant that his father was about to relax and have his mood improve drastically. This also usually meant that Lloyd could get away with more misbehavior without getting smacked.

Raine wrapped up his hand and left them, complaining of the smoke, saying that as a physician, she really could not recommend this. But she left them to it, probably because she knew they were both doomed anyway.

"You know," Lloyd smiled after a little while. "I thought that once you learned about all the trouble I got myself into, you'd give me a sound beating. I've been dreading it for months."

"Dreading?" Kratos seemed concerned, but Lloyd couldn't tell if it was for his son or because of the low-quality tobacco that Lloyd had bought in Hima.

"Yeah. Every time you showed up I was always scared of getting a beating."

"Did I really scare you?"

"Well… yeah. All the time."

Kratos let out a sound that had an equal chance of being a laugh or a sob. "I guarantee I was far more terrified of you than you were of me."

Lloyd had a hard time believing that. "Oh, really."

"When you were a baby, I was afraid to even hold you. I thought that I'd… drop you, or hurt you, or something. I was so convinced that I would accidentally kill you somehow. And then, when you got older, I had to force myself not to kill you."

"Huh. I guess I was kind of a little shit."

"You did know how to rub me the wrong way. Gods, you were so good at it, it was uncanny. I was so afraid that if I didn't kill you, you'd find some other way to do it. By running off and getting yourself murdered by highwaymen. By trying something dangerous. You _did_ try to kill yourself quite a bit, you know. And you were so stubborn, you didn't listen, so I thought maybe I could smack some sense into you. Still, I never should've treated you the way I did." Kratos sighed smoke. "You know, after all those years of trying to teach you lessons, I think you've taught me the most valuable one."

"What?"

"You can't beat sense into fools."

Lloyd snorted. "Ugh. Thanks, dad."

Kratos smiled a little. "I think you've learned plenty of lessons on your own. You did all this… you figured everything out, you took care of yourself. You traveled both worlds, you held your own. You got strong, you even found yourself a girl. All without me."

Lloyd had to concede. "Yeah. I guess I did."

Kratos sat pensive for a few moments, puffing smoke. "I swear you've grown taller."

Lloyd laughed. "Am I tall enough to be a pirate yet?"

"Not nearly. You seem about the right height for maybe… a farmer. An innkeeper. A tailor. Something that doesn't require violence."

"The dwarf we're gonna see, Dirk… He offered me a blacksmith apprenticeship."

Kratos smiled. "You're just the right height for that, I suppose. Are you going to take it?"

"Maybe. I don't know what I'm gonna do when this is all over. Chances are, I'll be dead by then."

Kratos frowned, took Lloyd's left hand in his own. "I was right to be afraid for you. Somehow, deep in my gut, I knew this would happen."

Lloyd didn't know what to say. "Well, I guess we have some bonding time before I die?" he suggested.

"Don't worry, Lloyd. I won't let it kill you. I've failed you so many times before, I won't do it again. Not when it matters the most."

"What do you mean?"

"Here, have some." Kratos handed him the pipe to shut him up. He took a puff, giving his father enough time to change the subject. "So, you have the instructions for making the pact ring? And the materials?"

"Sheena says there are some mistakes, but she can fix them. She's off to get the materials now."

"Sheena?"

"The summoner. You didn't meet her. She's going to make a pact with Origin so we can use the Eternal Sword or whatever."

Kratos' brow furrowed. "Gods, Lloyd, 'or whatever?' Maybe you haven't been maturing as much as I thought."

Lloyd laughed and handed the pipe back to his father. "Hey, you know me. Always the stubborn little boy. That's your fault, I guess, for raising me the way you did."

"Humph."

Lloyd stared at his hands for a moment. "I mean, it was a little weird, you paying so much money to send me to school under a fake name. And then not caring if I did well in it. I guess you had other stuff to worry about."

"Your grades were not… my primary concern. To be honest, it was when you started reminding me too much of Mithos that I got worried."

"Wait, what? Yuan said that I reminded him of Mithos, too."

"It's true. Mithos went to school for a while, was at the top of his class, until the racial decrees forced him out. So it wasn't scholastic underachievement that turned him into what he is. That turned the world into what it is. It was his determination, his resolve, his unwavering sense of justice. And his strength. He always wanted to do the right thing, no matter what. He wouldn't take no for an answer. That's what worried me about you. I knew that at some point you would run off and try to change the world. And from my experience, when someone tries hard enough, they _do_ change the world. But it's always for the worst."

Lloyd sighed. "And here we are. Doing just that."

"Here we are, gods help us." Kratos took a puff and handed the pipe to Lloyd again.

Lloyd stared into the smoke snaking through the air, mesmerized. "Gods help us," he repeated, quietly.

* * *

In the shadows of the creaking hull, where they were sure no one would find them, Lloyd and Colette lay in the dusty dark, holding one another. Despite her ever-expanding disease, Colette's skin seemed to give off a light bright enough to see by, even in the darkest nooks and crannies, where they usually embraced like this. Colette lay with her back to him, and Lloyd ran his finger over her scaly skin. The disease had spread nearly all the way down her arm, and was now making its way across her shoulder blade toward her spine.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Not when I'm with you," she answered.

"Good." He cupped her shoulder, and she reached back and took his hand in hers.

"What about you?"

"Not so much anymore. Not for a while now. I think… I think the exsphere has just about run its course."

Colette gripped his hand, pressing her blighted green skin against his. He almost liked the way they matched. He let her go and turned around, pressing his back against hers, feeling her warmth seep through him. They lay in silence for a few minutes, each staring into their own darkness.

"Do you think…" Lloyd started. "Do you think that we'll meet each other again after we die?"

"I'm sure of it."

He stared at the creaking wood beams across from him, counting the grains. "One of the sailors I met in Palmacosta said that death was an island. He said that we're all going to wash up on its shores one day, and wake up in the warm sand with no troubles anymore. He said that it's always sunset there, and there's a big white lighthouse that lights up the sea, so that the souls can find their way there. There's no winter, and the water is always warm."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Yeah. I'm thinking we should build a house on the west side of the island so we can get a good view of the eternal sunset."

"I agree. I hope it's near the lighthouse."

"It will be. I have this all planned out. It'll be made of red brick and it'll have a big window that faces the ocean."

"We'll have a garden," Colette suggested.

"Of course."

"And a dog or two."

"That goes without saying."

Lloyd felt Colette turn over and wrap her arms around him. She leaned into his shoulder. "I can't wait."

Lloyd smiled, still staring at the shadows around him. "Neither can I."

* * *

Iselia was just as peaceful as Lloyd remembered. It looked like it had remained untouched by the chaos to which he had become so accustomed. The town was quiet, the ranch was quieter, so they had an easy time making their way up to Dirk's house. Lloyd didn't know why Desian activity in the region had decreased—perhaps it was because of the Renegades' commandeering of their greatest weapon. Maybe Mithos needed all the help he could get trying to retrieve the mana cannon.

Within a few miles of Dirk's house, Noishe emerged from the trees to greet them. Kratos fell to one knee, arms outspread, and the dog, whining excitedly, wiggled his way into the man's embrace. Lloyd could see Kratos whisper something into the dog's waiting ear, scratching him and generally showing more affection than Lloyd thought was normal.

"Looks like you missed the dog more than you missed me," he joked, but when Kratos turned to him, something in his gaze told him that his comment had stung. Noishe accompanied them to the edge of Dirk's property, and when he was sure they were safely delivered to their destination, he ran off into the trees, no doubt on the prowl for something delicious.

When the dwarf's humble abode came into view, Kratos had to stop. He insisted that it would be better if he stayed away, if they let him leave, but Lloyd would have none of it. "We still need to make the ring," he said. "And besides, you can't leave until you're completely better." He tugged at his father's reluctant arm. "Come on, I'll defend you if I need to."

When Dirk saw Kratos he turned red and clutched his chest. He looked like he had murder on his mind, but Lloyd stepped between the two.

"Dirk… um," he started. "Meet my dad."

"You! You're a right bastard, you know that?" the dwarf said in lieu of a proper greeting.

"Perhaps," Kratos answered, as if that were the only thing he could say. "Yes, I think you're right."

"Well, come on in and sit yourself down, you need a talkin' to." Dirk forwent whatever violence he had in mind and led them all inside, and after launching an indignant tirade against Kratos for his neglect, his parenting, his mistakes and his carelessness, he served them all beer and declared all was forgiven.

It was a dwarf thing, he said. Once they drank together, any bad blood between them was through. He then proceeded to threaten Kratos with swift retribution if he let Lloyd get himself into any more trouble.

Kratos took the criticism in stride, stoic as always. By the end of the night he and Dirk, just a little smashed, sat closely together, talking deeply and smoking heavily. Lloyd couldn't understand a word they said, but found it bewilderingly odd that they ended their feud with beer, tobacco, and philosophical conversation. He figured it was an old man thing.

Raine and Genis were up to their usual shenanigans, which included study and only study, so Lloyd decided to go outside and check on his mother.

"Hi. I'm back," he said to the lifeless grave. "I brought dad with me. Who'da thunk I'd be the one to rescue him? You'd think after thousands of years he'd learn to take care of himself." He paused, looking the tombstone over, wondering if his mother would be proud. "Did you know he was that old? Did you know he has wings? What a weirdo."

He stayed at the grave well into the early hours of the morning, telling her about all that had happened since his last visit. A rustling in the grass behind him interrupted his conversation, and he looked over his shoulder to see Kratos, staring sadly at the grave. He stepped forward, silent, frowning, and knelt beside Lloyd.

"Is this… yes. It is her."

"Yeah."

Kratos put a hand over his face and stood up. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I can't stay here."

Anger crept through Lloyd, starting in his heart and creeping through his veins, amplified through his exsphere. "Why? You can't look at her?"

Kratos stayed silent for a moment. "It's not that. It's just that… I have so much I need to do."

"Bullshit. I think you can't stay here because you can't face what you've done."

"Lloyd—"

"Come here and sit down. We're going to be together. For a little bit, at least." We are one screwed up family, Lloyd thought. One dead, one dying and one immortal. Now that's hardly fair. "Sit down and have some family time."

Lloyd didn't quite expect his father to obey him, but a little of his anger receded when Kratos knelt on the dirt beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few agonizing minutes, watching the grave intently, as if any second it might give them back what they had lost.

"You know," Kratos started, softly, "ever since you were a little, I wondered what you would've been like if she had been around. If you didn't have only me. I suppose if you'd had someone else entirely, you probably wouldn't be in this whole mess."

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos sighed. "Often, especially when things got rough, I would hate myself for keeping you with me. I kept telling myself I should've left you, I should've abandoned you. I should've given you away. To an orphanage, to Yuan. To Dirk. Imagine growing up here instead of on the knee of a sellsword."

Lloyd did imagine it would've been quite different. He would've been able to grow up with Colette, for one thing. And have a house, a home. That would've been nice.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this. I tried to keep you out of it, I really did. Maybe if I had let you grow up in Iselia, you wouldn't be caught up in all of this… but I didn't. I was selfish and cruel enough to force this life on you, for my sake. Forgive me… no boy deserves a father like me."

"Shut up, dad!" Lloyd said. "Don't gimme that bullshit. You did the best you could. You paid for my school, you taught me to fight, you…" he glanced down at his exspheres, "well… you protected me from the Desians for all those years."

"Lloyd. I am one of the founders of Cruxis, one of the overseeing seraphim. I spent years perfecting and enforcing the two-world paradigm. That includes ranches. Lloyd, I _am_ a Desian, I'm _worse_ than a Desian."

"But you left them. You're not like them."

Kratos sighed and stood. "How little you know, Lloyd. Keep it that way. You'll be better off for it."

"Where are you going?"

"Inside."

"Hey, hold up. I'm not done with you yet. Hey, dad, wait!"

But Kratos had already closed the door behind him and left Lloyd alone in the chilly night.

"Bastard."

* * *

Lloyd slept fitfully, as usual, but Kratos hovered over him, ready for the nightmares to come. When he heard light footsteps behind him, he turned slowly, still bent over his son.

"You still don't sleep, Chosen One?" he asked.

Colette shook her head. "I only sleep if I want to."

Kratos sighed. "I imagine that it can be difficult to get rest with him thrashing about all night."

"I usually stay near him, when he has bad dreams. That seems to help."

"Hm." Kratos lay his thumb on Lloyd's forehead, tracing a rune across his skin. "I usually use a spell to help him sleep, but it seems that I've been replaced."

"What spell is that?"

"It's old healing magic. I used it a lot when he had nightmares as a child. After…"

Colette stayed silent, waiting for him to finish, but he never did.

When Lloyd's tossing and turning had quieted down, Kratos turned to her. "Chosen One—"

"Colette, please."

"Colette. I know he can be rash, stubborn, foolish even. I know he's a handful. But please take care of him."

"Why don't you?"

"He doesn't need me anymore. It seems he's been doing a lot of growing up without me around. He will be much better off without me."

"All due respect, sir Kratos, but I don't think so. If there's one thing Lloyd couldn't stand, it was me selling myself short. Lloyd's a good, kind, wonderful person, and you're his father, so you're at least partly responsible for that."

Kratos turned back to his sleeping son, who was now curled in a ball, clutching the sheets to his chest. "Sometimes I think he turned out that way despite me rather than because of me."

"I don't think so."

Kratos sighed. "He will try to stop me from releasing Origin's seal. Don't let him."

"Kratos, sir, if I may, he'd be doing the right thing."

"I'd think you of all people should know the necessity of sacrifice."

Colette glanced at her feet. "I thought I did. But Lloyd found another way. He can find another way for you too."

Kratos shook his head. "There is no other way. Promise me you won't let him stop me."

"I… I can't promise that."

Kratos stood, looked her in the eye. "If you want Lloyd to live, let me do this."

"What do you mean?"

Kratos made for the door, ignoring the question. "Please. Watch over him while I'm gone." He strode out the door, down the steps, and into the shadowy night without another word.


	28. The Pact Ring

"_What_?" Lloyd punched the doorframe and then shook his stinging hand. His exsphere throbbed with pain and sent pulses of anger through him. "That son of a bitch thinks he can walk out on me, just like that?"

"Lloyd, calm down," Raine said. "Punishing Dirk's house isn't going to help."

"You have no idea! He does this all the time! Right when I think I have him back he runs away, dammit, he always…" Lloyd fell silent, fist still on the slivery doorframe. Maybe he had forced Kratos out when he insisted he stay at Anna's grave. Maybe he had been too harsh, maybe he had been uncaring and thoughtless and a downright damnable bastard… just like his father. And shit, now was the worst possible time Kratos could've ditched him, right before the forging of the pact ring, not to mention right when Lloyd had his family back together... sort of. He wondered if it was normal or at least understandable to consider a headstone a part of his family.

Lloyd suspected his father had run from the memory of what he did to his mother; he couldn't stand being around that grave, that reminder of his savagery. Well, good riddance. Lloyd would see him again anyway, when he released the seal and they made their pact with Origin. That is, if Lloyd could get there in time to keep him from killing himself.

Lloyd hadn't heard from Yuan since Hima. He hoped that they could get the pact ring forged and be on their way before Kratos decided to release the seal alone and screw up Yuan's delicate plan to save him. Lloyd watched the sky eagerly, waiting for any sign of Zelos and Sheena. When they came, he would be sure to interrogate them about Yuan's whereabouts and his plans.

The two in question arrived with the materials for the pact ring within the week. Zelos hauled it all rather unceremoniously in a burlap sack, throwing it on the porch in front of them. "That is the last time I do you guys a favor," he said. "That was literally the tallest mountain on the planet. I hate you."

Sheena, too, looked exhausted. "We would've been here days ago if it weren't for that pesky Aska. Who the hell does he think he is, running off like that? Gods, I swear, just that one pact took me all the way around Sylvarant. Hell of a trip."

"But did you do it?" Lloyd asked eagerly.

"Yup. All mana links severed, and now we get to power the mana cannon."

Lloyd smiled. "Any word from Yuan?"

Sheena nodded. "He says that things are looking grim at the cannon's current location, so he's going to try to move it when he can. Good luck to him, I say; that thing is huge. He says that we have the go-ahead to make our way to Heimdall and make the pact when we've got the ring ready."

Lloyd nodded. So Yuan must be taking care of things. That was a little comforting, at least. "Now all we need to do is forge the ring and we're golden," he said.

Easier said than done. Even with Dirk's expertise and the proper materials, the process was delicate, tedious and time-consuming. Lloyd did all he could to help—piling the sacred wood into the forge, fanning the flames for what seemed like hours as Dirk meticulously molded and hammered the necessary metals and compounds. They worked for a day and a half straight, never letting the fires die, never letting the metal grow cold. The others sat around, sometimes offering help, but mostly just drinking beer and discussing plans while Dirk and Lloyd worked their asses off.

When they were finally done, Lloyd collapsed in a corner, never prouder.

"You did good, lad," Dirk said, face streaked with soot. "Surprisingly good. For a human."

Lloyd couldn't muster the strength to even thank him. He wiped sweat from his forehead, relieved that the job was done. It was done, and now he could go find his father… find a way to end all this, to make sure everyone got out alive. Well, everyone who possibly could. He and Colette still had a special place reserved for them on the west side of that transcendental island, where the pink water never grew cold and the lighthouse beacon never went out. He weakly hoped that they could put off that adventure for a little while longer. At least Colette might be able to, if Raine could manage to heal her illness. If so, Lloyd would just have to get everything ready for her when she came. And when he had the house built, the fires lit and the garden planted, he would wait at the edge of the water, or so the song went.

Colette came to him and reached out a comforting hand, and he smiled at her. He could see that the green scurf of her disease had spread across her cheekbone, almost to her nose. He reached up and touched her cheek before taking her hand and letting her lead him to the table, where some leftovers were waiting for him.

He planned on eating everything he saw, but when the time came, he was so exhausted he simply fell forward onto the table and passed out.

* * *

In the quiet darkness of his desert base, Yuan lay across his desk, hands over his chest. He had thrown his paperwork onto the floor and now stared at the ceiling, wishing he could sleep, wishing he could just escape from all this. But he knew he couldn't. He knew he had to go back to that infernal mana cannon, make the unbearable trek through the warzone. He wished he could just leave it as it was, just leave everything, but this world needed him.

He had to prepare the desert facility for the reception of the cannon. He had to then prepare the cannon for transport. Then he had to make sure that he could successfully move something that big through the impenetrable horde of Mithos' henchmen. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. If only he had more soldiers… no, if only he could use his soldiers more effectively. Gods, you'd think that after he'd spent so many years at war, read so many books about it, he'd be better at this.

He heard a soft, dusty swish, and pricked up his sensitive ears. It sounded like someone was running their fingers along his extensive bookshelf. He recognized that gait, recognized the breathing, the slow heartbeat, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I'm surprised you still have time to read," Kratos said.

Yuan sighed. "I don't." He sat up. "What do you want? Are you here for a fight?"

"No. I'm here to ask you a favor." Kratos was disheveled, pale and dressed in clothes that were obviously not his own, but he looked a hell of a lot better than when Yuan last saw him.

"What favor?"

"Keep Lloyd out of this. After I release the seal and you go for the Eternal Sword, which is what I'm assuming is your plan, I want you to make sure he doesn't follow you up to Derris-Kharlan."

"Your son is unruly and stubborn. I can't guarantee anything."

Kratos smiled faintly, and Yuan thought he could spy new winkles on his ageless face. "I know you don't want to have the responsibility of some bastard's kid foisted on you. But make sure he's okay. Please. I seem to have left him in the care of a teenaged girl. That cannot end well."

Yuan chuckled mirthlessly. "You really are a terrible father, you know that?"

"I know. After Mithos, I should've known better."

"It's not entirely your fault. About Mithos. We both let him get out of hand. And the world… well, the world was not made for a boy as sensitive as him. It took its toll on him, and we failed to protect him." He paused. "We failed to protect both of them."

"Yes. We did. So let's not fail to protect what's left to us."

Yuan thought of Botta. Of everyone he had killed. Of the cannon, of the future of the world. He swung his legs off the side of the desk and stretched. "You know, your son actually turned out all right. Impulsive, reckless, rude, stubborn, and frankly, a complete idiot. But still all right."

"His heart is in the right place," Kratos offered, but Yuan failed to find comfort in his words.

"Just like Mithos," he replied.

"Yes. Just like Mithos. Make sure Lloyd doesn't share his fate."

"I certainly will. The world doesn't need another self-righteous despot."

Yuan failed to mention exactly how he would keep Lloyd from turning out like their old companion. Kratos seemed to notice this lack of detail as well. He turned to go, but before he left, he asked, "Do you think we should've done it?"

"Done what?" Yuan pretended not to know what Kratos was talking about. The thought of it still made him slightly ill.

"Killed him. Before he got too powerful. When we had the chance."

Yuan thought back to the long period of insane mourning after Martel had died, and decided that that would've been the perfect time to let Mithos join her and free the world from his tyranny. But at that point he hadn't lost faith enough in the boy to turn against him and stab him in the back. And besides, they were all racked with grief at Martel's passing. Murdering Mithos was the last thing on their minds.

"Yes," Yuan answered. "We should've killed him a long time ago."

"But we didn't. Why?"

Because we loved him, Yuan thought. "I don't know," he said.

Kratos sighed and leaned against the doorframe as the automatic door slid open. "Promise me you won't go easy on him. We were always too easy on him." Kratos turned his head and stared at Yuan. "Make no mistake, he needs to die."

"You have no idea how lucky you are to be the one who doesn't have to do it."

Kratos put one foot through the door, but apparently he wasn't quite done. "Lloyd told me you had found a way to make me survive releasing the seal. Is it true, or were you lying to him to get him to cooperate?"

"A little of both," Yuan admitted. "I don't know if it will work, but I plan on being there when it all goes down. In which case, you can live to help me put an end to Mithos."

"Whatever you're planning, don't do it."

"I don't think you can stop me."

Kratos flashed him a frown but didn't say another word. Instead, he fled through the door and left Yuan alone in the cold dark.

* * *

"Zelos? Who were you talking to?" Lloyd asked. In the night air lit by the waxing half-moon, Zelos turned, surprised to see him.

"What?" he asked. "No one."

"Who was that woman?"

"What woman?"

Lloyd sighed. "Look. If you're gonna be doing this at night, you should at least tell Sheena."

Zelos looked at him for a moment. "Sheena? What's she got to do with… oh, oh, okay. Yes. Well, we already worked that out. Polyamory is all the rage, you know? Heh."

Lloyd spied a bead of sweat drip down Zelos' cheek. He frowned, but it wasn't his place to nose into Zelos and Sheena's undoubtedly complex relationship. He sighed. "Okay, but you know, you should really talk with her." It wasn't like Lloyd could stop Zelos from frolicking off on nightly trysts, but he should at least be better at hiding it, if he apparently felt guilty about them.

Zelos seemed eager to change the subject, even if it was to a displeasing one. "So, Lloyd. You know what's happening to Colette, don't you?"

Lloyd nodded and sat down on the soft grass. The smell of supper was still wafting pleasantly from Dirk's house a little ways down the road. Zelos sat beside him.

"So you know that you can't cure it, right?"

"Yes, we can," Lloyd said. "It's been done before. Raine can do it, she just needs all the materials. She says some of them can be bought, and she already has the unicorn horn. All we need now is some grass that grows near the elven village, so we're good."

Zelos shook his head. "Raine can't do it by herself. And there are no facilities in either world equipped for that sort of thing."

Lloyd didn't want to believe him. "How do you know so much about it?" he asked sullenly.

"Because…" Zelos looked to the sky as if seeking an answer. "Because it's something only Chosens get, you know. We're all warned about it sometime or another. I could tell from the very beginning that she had it."

Anger pulsed through Lloyd when he thought of how Zelos could've possibly known about her disease before he did. Oh gods, he'd been undressing her when she couldn't say no, when nobody was looking, dammit, who knows what he'd done with her while she was incapacitated. "You asshole, how could you know that? Unless you did something to her—"

"Whoa, hold up, Lloyd!" Zelos raised his arms. "I didn't do shit. Give me a little credit, as a gentleman. I would never, I mean, unless she _asked_…"

"What's your damn point?" Lloyd growled.

"My point is that Chosens know these things. We know things about one another. That's all. It's a… um… it's a spiritual sort of thing, you know? Something a pleb like you couldn't understand. Look, I know you care about Colette, but you can't really do a thing for her, you get me?"

"So what, you're happy with just letting her die?"

"No, of course not. I want her to live just as much as you do. But there really is nothing we can do. I just wanted you to know that… you know, so you're prepared when the time comes."

Lloyd stood up, not willing to stick around for this bullshit. "We're leaving tomorrow. Get your stuff packed." Without another word, he walked down the road and strode back into the house.

* * *

Heimdall was exactly how Kratos remembered it. That wasn't unexpected, since for thousands of years it had eschewed all progress. The elven village was not a place that was subject to much change. Even the children took decades to grow, and it took an eternity for someone to die.

Heimdall had air of timelessness to it, a sort of permanency about which Kratos remained ambivalent. Perhaps if he'd had a better past, he wouldn't mind the stillness, the quaintness, but he wasn't a man who was subject to nostalgia. In fact, he had a habit of actively avoiding things that reminded him of days long gone.

At the gate, he was greeted by name and escorted directly to the elder, who sat in his hut in silence. When Kratos came in, he looked up but didn't bother to stand.

"Is it that time already?" he asked.

Kratos nodded. "I will make my way through Treant to Origin. A summoner will no doubt come through sometime after me. My son will be with her. I request that you let him and his companions pass through the village."

"They shall all have passage."

"And I suspect Yuan will be arriving as well."

"Why?" the elder asked suspiciously.

"I suppose it's because I cannot stop him," Kratos answered.

"I will not bend the rules to let a half-elf through the village," the elder said.

Kratos sighed. "You will have to."

"Yuan knows his way around the forest of the Treant. He will not have to come near the village. He will find his own way."

Kratos sighed. Elves were as stubborn as they were long-lived. It had taken him years to get them to forgive him for all he and Mithos had done, and even then it was more of a treaty than a pardon. It had taken so long for him to convince them to let him anywhere near their forest. But Kratos had insisted for years that as long as they shared a common enemy, they might as well work together.

"I have need of a sword."

"You shall have one."

Kratos bowed. "Thank you." He turned to make his exit.

"Kratos," the elder said, quietly. "Do not fail. I fear that it will mean the end of everything we know."

Kratos nodded and silently left the elder's hut. An elven guard approached him with his requested sword, and he took it in his tired hands. It was strong, a little short for his tastes, but he would have to manage. After all, he had left Flamberge with Lloyd, and he was resolved not to regret that decision. He strode through the village and into the forest, thinking about what he would say to his son when he inevitably showed up.

Kratos knew he wouldn't be able to convince Lloyd to stay out of this, and leave it all to those who actually had a responsibility to eliminate the monster they had created. He hoped that Yuan would be able to force him to stay safe. But he didn't believe Yuan could do that, either. Lloyd could be a hurricane when he set his mind to it, tireless and unstoppable.

Please, he thought. Please don't do anything that will hurt you. Kratos knew his son's safety was far too much to ask of gods that had stopped listening to him ages ago.

In truth, he didn't want to abandon his child. But he also didn't want that child to live in this evil world, this product of his ancient, twisted ideal. If the world had to be saved so Lloyd could live, he would do it. If it had to be destroyed so Lloyd could live, he would do it. If he had to live for Lloyd, he would, if he had to die for Lloyd, he would.

Gods, if his old self could see him now... so weary, so worn down, a slave to a son he had never planned to have. It looked like he had truly gotten nowhere these past four thousand years. He couldn't help smiling a little sadly as he trudged onward, through the green shadows, following a path he knew well. He had taken this same path thousands of times, for thousands of years. Each time he came here, the forest seemed smaller, almost shallower, growing more and more like an illusion than an actual forest.

It was amazing how four thousand years of trekking the globe can make the world seem so small. It was more of a prison than anything at this point. One that he had never been able to escape, at least not until now. He lost himself in thought as he walked through the woods, somewhat relieved that the end of his long internment was finally in sight. From the tall, thin bars of trees, he saw the monument to Origin shine in its clearing, unchanged and covered in moss. He approached it, running his hand across it to scrape off some of the invading plants.

He turned, stared into the darkening sky, and sat down. He lay his sword across his lap and crossed his legs. Here, he could keep his vigil. He would stay here for as long as it took. He could afford to wait. As long as he would be able to see Lloyd one last time, he would be content.


	29. Heimdall

"Here's your fruit, kid," Lloyd grunted, handing the little elf boy his prize. Gods, why did he have to agree to help everyone in need? Was he kind, or was he just a royal sucker? The child looked down at the fruit and smiled.

"Okay," he said. "Now you can pass."

"And you can go to hell, you little shit," Zelos muttered behind him. Lloyd lifted his leg and kicked Zelos lightly in the shins.

In truth, Lloyd kind of wanted to push the little elf into the vast pool that surrounded the village, but he had agreed to help him. He had agreed to find that fruit for his sick mother, even if they had to run all the way around the damn forest to get it.

The little elf boy grinned and bit into the fruit before running toward the village, laughing. Lloyd shot him a condemning look, but he didn't seem to care. He only looked like he was proud that he had made the visiting humans gallivant across the dangerous forest, apparently for nothing.

"That was supposed to be for your mum, you rat!" Lloyd called after him. The boy only smirked and disappeared into the foliage. "He'd better find a damn good place to hide," Lloyd muttered. "When we get to Heimdall I'm gonna teach him a lesson or two."

"You have more important things to worry about right now, Lloyd," Raine told him as they approached the village gate. Two elves stood guard, raising their spears when they saw strangers approach. "And so do I," she muttered.

The elves spoke in a language Lloyd couldn't understand, but he could still tell they weren't happy to see him. Raine stepped up and began to talk to them, gesticulating appealingly. For all Lloyd could understand, she seemed like she was being reasonable and polite, but the elves only brandished their spears at her, shouting angrily.

"What are they saying?" Lloyd asked her, but she only stared forward, expressionless.

One of the elf guards turned to Lloyd. "No half-breeds," he said. "Not allowed."

Sheena and Zelos looked at one another. "Um," Sheena started. "I think you're mistaken."

"They're not," Raine answered. The two, wide-eyed, recoiled in unison, but Raine seemed unfazed by their reaction. "Do what you will with that information."

"That is _bullshit_!" Lloyd shouted. "Raine was born here, you can't just refuse to let her in. She hasn't done anything to you."

"It's all right, Lloyd," Raine sighed. "If our blood is a detriment to our cause, then Genis and I will stay here."

"Sis…" Genis hung his head and began to pick at his nails nervously.

The guards glanced at one another, then at Lloyd. They muttered something in elvish, but he heard his name repeated. One guard motioned to the other to go into the village, then approached Lloyd. "You are the son of Kratos?" he asked.

"Uh. Yeah."

"The elder has granted you and your companions passage. However. It failed to be mentioned that you had mixed blood with you."

"Maybe because that's not important." Lloyd grit his teeth. "What is wrong with you?"

The guard frowned, probably not understanding. "The elder will send his word."

While they waited for the other elf to return, Raine turned to her companions, held Genis close to her, and closed her eyes passively, as if expecting some sort of punishment. "I hope you can forgive us for failing to disclose our race to you," she said.

"Well… that's okay," Sheena said, a little unsure of herself. "I can hardly blame you, really."

"I've known forever," Colette smiled. "You can't keep secrets from these ears."

Zelos, red-faced, seemed to be the only one who was overtly unhappy about this. "You didn't happen to overhear my joke, about the… um… 'a mercenary, a priest of Martel, and a half-elf walk into a bar' one, did you?"

Genis nodded. "It was pretty offensive."

"Not to mention revolting," Raine put in.

"Why didn't you tell me! My goddess, no wonder you guys were a tough crowd. Jeez, well…" Zelos rubbed the back of his neck, thinking hard. "Well… you guys are all right, I guess. I can… live with it."

Raine snorted with both derision and a little relief. "I'm glad."

An unbearably awkward silence followed, until the elven guard returned and cut it mercifully short. "The elder says they may pass. He has given his word, even if they have chosen to disrespect our customs."

Lloyd clenched his fists. "Disrespect my ass," he muttered quietly, hoping they wouldn't hear, but also kind of wishing they would.

The village was small, eerily quiet, and had a strange smell to it. He didn't have much time to explore the place before he was forcibly escorted to the house of the elder. A tiny, ancient man sat on the floor, and barely lifted his wrinkled face to greet them when they came in. He whispered to one of his hunched assistants in that strange language, and she nodded. She stood and sized up their party, frowning.

"He says you are to stay the night here before you enter the Treant. He requests that you do not allow the half-bloods to leave their lodging. They will disturb the villagers and disrupt our lifestyle." Lloyd turned to see Raine's expression melt into sadness. When he again faced the elder, he hoped he didn't look too pissed off. "We will lead you to your resting place. You are to enter the forest come morning." She nodded her head and led them outside, across the small village and to a building that might've been an inn, but had none of the conventional human amenities.

It was practically a single room, with small mats lined up against the wall in lieu of beds. Lloyd scratched his head and dropped his stuff on the farthest one. He guessed the elves weren't exactly sticklers for privacy, but he didn't mind too much. Colette lay her pack next to his, and sat on her flat pillow, crossing her legs. Lloyd looked down at her hands, and could see that her disease had made its way past her wrists. He took one of her hands in his and examined it.

He remembered that Raine had mentioned that one of the components of her cure grew around here, but he didn't know where. And Raine couldn't go get it, not with her legally bound to stay inside. Lloyd sighed. Well, they would find it on the way out of the forest, when he had his father back.

It began to rain late in the afternoon. The evening wore on, and they all sat in silence, listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof. Sometime before dark, an elven servant entered and placed before them a sparse and unappealing meal of dried fruits and dense bread. He nodded to them and left again without saying a word.

"Come and eat, Raine," Lloyd said, but she was plastered to the window, staring out at the village enveloped in grey mist.

"Come here, Genis, I want to show you something," she said quietly. Genis sighed and got up, walking to her side and staring out. "Over there, behind that big tree, you see that building? The small one with the roof caved in."

"Yeah, I see it," Genis said.

"That's where we used to live. That's where you were born."

Genis pushed himself up to the window, and the siblings stayed there, staring, until it completely fogged up.

"Hey, you guys," Lloyd said quietly, and they turned around. "If you want… you know, to go out there, I won't tell anyone. I'll keep guard. We can do it later tonight, when the town is asleep."

Raine shook her head. "I appreciate it, Lloyd, I really do. But the world comes first. We come later. If we have to stay inside so the elves will let us release Origin's seal, then so be it. We will return here after the world is at peace."

Lloyd sighed. He couldn't argue with her, but it didn't mean he was okay with keeping them cooped up inside.

"It's a little crowded in here," Zelos said, standing. "I'm gonna go explore a little bit."

"In the rain?" Sheena asked.

"Yup. See ya." Zelos slammed the door behind him.

Lloyd, Colette and Sheena stayed inside with the siblings. Lloyd liked to think it was to show solidarity with them, but it was probably because it was chilly and rainy outside. Besides, the village had not exactly been welcoming for them. When it got dark, they lit the oil lamps and sat around them, talking.

They talked about plenty of things that night. They spoke of Colette's illness, which she couldn't hide now that it had made its way to her face. They spoke of Kratos, of the seal, of Origin. And they touched less momentous and more personal topics; Raine told them about what she remembered from the village, about her mother's diary, about her childhood. With Zelos gone, it made it a lot easier to speak about half-elves and their troubles. "I hope that we didn't scare him off," Raine said. "But honestly, he's known us long enough that I should hope it wouldn't change anything."

"It shouldn't," Sheena said. "Whatever. He's an ass anyway. If he runs off because you guys are half-elves, then good riddance."

"Speaking of Zelos, he's been out there for a long time," Lloyd said. He hoped that Zelos wasn't off flirting with elf ladies, but he had a nagging suspicion that this was exactly what he was up to. Lloyd got to his feet. "I'll go look for him."

"Don't, Lloyd. It's pouring out there," Genis said.

"Yeah, he isn't worth it getting your shirt wet over," Sheena said.

Lloyd frowned. Maybe Zelos wasn't worth it, but Lloyd still wanted to see what he was up to. He shook his head and opened the door, despite the protests of his companions. He stepped out into the rain, and shut the door behind him. He wondered where Zelos would've gone, and started the search.

He didn't get very far, since by the time he reached the edge of the village, Zelos was on his way back in. Lloyd wondered what business he had out there, and figured it was just probably another one of his trysts.

When Lloyd approached him, he saw that he was hiding something small under his jacket, trying to keep it out of the rain.

"Zelos," he said, and the Chosen smiled guiltily at him. "What on earth are you doing?" Zelos shrugged. "And what are you carrying?"

"Oh, this? Um, just flowers. For Raine, you know, as an apology for that joke. And all the other jokes. And everything."

Lloyd leaned forward and glanced at the bundle of plants that Zelos so carefully held under his jacket. "Those are weeds."

"Oh, um, well, if you must know… I have a bit of a smoking habit."

"Figures." That would explain why he was trying to keep them dry. Lloyd sighed a little and supposed this was probably one of the more harmless vices that Zelos had. Lloyd had once tried smoking in the alley behind the academy, and it hadn't been tobacco. He hadn't really enjoyed it then; it had made him feel sluggish and a little nauseous, but Lloyd thought he might be able to use a good escape right now. "So, can I smoke with you?"

Zelos looked taken aback. "Lloyd! I didn't have you pinned as that kind of guy. You strike me as more of a binge drinker. But yeah. You can smoke with me sometime. Not this stuff, though. This could tranquilize a horse. Not for the faint of heart, for sure. Don't worry, though. I'll get you a little something-something later on." He started heading back toward their little abode, Lloyd in tow. "I know this guy in Altamira who has the best stuff on the market. On the planet, probably. Yup, only the best for the Chosen and his bud." When they reached the house, Zelos hesitated. "So… don't tell the others, all right? I don't want anyone to get all judgmental about it."

"Sure thing," Lloyd said, unconvinced. He was surprised that Zelos wouldn't invite Sheena to their illicit smoking session. They seemed to do everything together. But as long as Zelos wasn't doing anything horribly wrong, he didn't see the issue with keeping his little habit a secret. Goddess knows he had worse ones.

"Lloyd," Zelos said as he placed his hand on the door handle.

"What?"

Zelos tucked the little weed into his pocket before lowering his gaze. "Nothing."

"All right."

Lloyd opened the door and retreated into the dry, warm light of the small building. Zelos followed and closed the door behind him, shutting out the darkness and the rain.

* * *

Yuan stared into the screen, at his soldiers trying to load the dismantled cannon onto the warship. Even getting the dreadnaught through Mithos' onslaught of angels had been hell—he didn't want to imagine how hard it would be to get it out again.

He clenched his fists. "Come on, boys," he muttered at the tiny soldiers on the other side of the screen. "Hurry, before more of them come."

Things had not been going well for their little fortress in the sea. The outer wall had been breached, and angels flooded the lower levels of what was formerly a human ranch. The Renegades had managed to barricade themselves in the control center, and had recently retaken the docking bay in order to load the cannon onto the warship. But they all knew they couldn't hold out for long. They were desperately outnumbered and Mithos had done an excellent job of sending wave after wave of angelic battalions, wearing them down and picking them off one by one, until their force was almost nothing.

Yuan grit his teeth and watched the screen, arms shaking. They were running out of time. Their fortifications were due to fall any day now, and the process of dismantling and loading had been taking so long…

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice a tall, elegant figure appear behind him. He didn't notice it approach, feet floating a few inches off the ground. He didn't know he wasn't alone until the figure spoke in a cruel, soft voice.

"Hello, Yuan."

Yuan didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He froze, not daring to move. His eyes darted back and forth, from the screen to the buttons surrounding it, back to the screen. He swiftly considered his only two options. He could order the Renegades to keep loading the cannon onto the warship and try to escape before angels descended on them, or he could tell them to scatter, to save themselves, to give up the cannon in exchange for their lives. He desperately weighed the two, trying to measure gains and losses, slaughter and escape.

He quickly reached out and nearly smashed a button on the side of the screen. "Abort!" he shouted into the microphone. "Abort! Make for escape—"

He didn't have time to finish his command before he was struck on the side of the head. His vision blurred and he flew into the wall, barely landing on his feet. He reached out his arm and tried to summon his weapon, but Mithos was already there, extending a hand, light and power bursting at the tips of his fingers.

Yuan felt a powerful impact to his stomach and stumbled sideways, trying to outrun the spells Mithos kept throwing at him.

"So, you think you can get away with this, do you?" Mithos laughed, chasing him across the room. "You always were an arrogant little swine."

Yuan jumped aside as a pillar of light burst into the floor before him, melting the metal. His muscles were on fire, his vision was blurry, he was still reeling from that solid smash to the side of the head. He swung his arm and threw a spell back at Mithos, but the boy dodged it easily, flashing him a wide smile. They exchanged blows for a few agonizing minutes before Mithos decided he was done.

"I don't want to play this anymore, Yuan," he said, raising his hands and summoning a wave of air that threw Yuan backwards into the computer's giant interface, smashing glass and metal. He crumpled to the floor, trying to pull himself up, but he couldn't. Mithos stood over him, laying a foot on his shoulder.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Who?"

Mithos kicked Yuan across the face, and he saw blood fly onto the metal floor. "Kratos. Where the hell is Kratos? You have him, don't you?"

"No," Yuan answered, and got another kick to the face.

"Then where did he go?" Mithos demanded.

"Damned if I know," Yuan groaned, weaving a spell in his fingers, where Mithos couldn't see. He reached up and cast it, and Mithos was thrown back into the opposite wall.

Yuan tried to get to his feet, but he only managed to tremble to one knee. He was just too weak, worn down from holding the fort. And Mithos, well, he had never been stronger. The boy recovered and made his way across the room to him, angrier than before, and raised his hands. Yuan lifted his arms in defense, but it didn't help when the impact of the spell hit him. Fire tore through his veins and he screamed. Mithos bent over him, kicking his ribs, his neck, his chest. Yuan curled on his side, agony rushing through him.

"Where the hell is he, Yuan? Where is he?"

Yuan struggled to catch his breath. Just tell him, his agonized body said. Just tell him so he'll stop. "He… he went… to find his son."

Mithos ceased his pummeling and leaned over Yuan. He turned him over with his foot. "Where?" he asked.

"A…" Yuan thought for a moment, head burning. "A… Asgard."

"You don't sound so sure of that." Mithos put a knee on Yuan's chest and leaned in, sending pangs of sharp pain through his ribs.

"I'm… not. They… move around."

"Dammit!" Mithos screamed, and stomped downward, right onto Yuan's stomach. He curled in tortured spasms. "I'm gonna kill that little prick! I'm gonna kill him! Stealing Kratos from me…"

And Mithos was on him again, straddling him, pinning him down. He wrapped his hands around his neck and Yuan's sight blurred, a greyish haze creeping in from the edge of his vision. He gasped, clawing at Mithos, trying to push him off, but the fingers around his throat only gripped tighter.

Right when Yuan was ready to give up, to go limp and let the darkness swallow him, Mithos let go. "Ha!" he roared with delight. "You think I was gonna kill you fast? Don't count on it. The game's no fun if it ends early."

Yuan wheezed, sight slowly returning. He could feel the blood trickling down the side of his head and onto the floor. Mithos leaned over him, grabbing his hand and pulling it upward. "I've always hated this thing," the boy said, isolating his ring finger and pulling at it. "You don't really deserve it, though. Maybe I'll keep it."

No, Yuan thought. Not that.

"Damn," Mithos grunted, struggling to pull his ring off his finger. "Maybe I'll just have to cut the whole thing off."

Yuan groaned, trying to wrestle his hand back. Mithos struggled with it a moment longer, and the blood on Yuan's hands made the ring easier to pull off. Eventually Mithos stood, ring in hand, grinning. He looked it over before glancing back down to Yuan.

"Try not to die while I'm gone. I'll be back to finish our game." Mithos laughed and gave him a parting kick to the ribs. He slunk back into the silvery shadows, disappearing with a rush of white light.

When he was sure he was alone, Yuan dared to breathe again. Every intake of air sent pangs of agony through him, but after a few minutes of lying there and gasping shallowly, he grabbed the debris nearest to him and used it to pull himself up into a sitting position. He could barely move his head, his legs felt like rock.

Martel, he thought miserably. Have mercy on the little bastard when I send him to you. Yuan closed his eyes and told himself to get up.

What would Botta think if he saw you sitting here, limp as a willow branch? Get your ass up, get up, I know it hurts, but you have work left to do. You have a seal to break, a world to fix. Get up, you bastard. Kratos will be at Origin's shrine soon, if he isn't already. You'll be late. You'll be too late.

No, I need rest.

Get up.

Just a little rest.

Yuan leaned back and lifted his head, laying it against the metal surface of what was left of the ranch's computer interface. Yes, just a little rest, he thought. Then I'll get up, then I'll do what needs to be done. I will find them, I will save Kratos, and the world. I will save everyone.

A pool of blood formed below him, but he didn't notice it. He closed his eyes.

Just a little rest.

Then…

Rest.


	30. The Seal

The forest of the Treant smelled like fresh rain and wet leaves. The sun shone down from the cloudless sky, lighting up the early morning mist with a golden glow before slowly dissipating it. By mid-morning, the sun had banished all of the lingering fog, and their path was clear. Their elven guide, who had led them far into the woods, suddenly halted. Lloyd put a hand on his sword hilt, not sure if the elf had seen some monster lurking in the shadows, but their guide did not seem to sense danger. He only turned to them and spoke stiltedly, "This is where I stop. Down this path is Origin. Stay on the path. If you stray, you'll end up lost. Dead."

Lloyd gulped. "All right," he said.

The elf didn't wait for any questions. He simply wrapped his cloak tighter around him and set off back toward the village, giving Raine and Genis a wide berth.

Asshole, Lloyd couldn't help thinking. But he didn't stick around to watch the elf leave. Instead he faced his path and led the others toward Origin, and toward his father.

So far, none of them had heard a peep from Yuan. Lloyd worried that perhaps something had happened to him, or that he deemed other business more important to attend to than saving Kratos. But Lloyd couldn't help him, couldn't urge him to hurry up, not when he was halfway around the world. Yuan was quick, he was sly, and he had an uncanny way of getting from one point to another without actually having to trek the distance in between. Lloyd would only have to trust that he would get there in time. For now, he had no choice but to make his way toward the clearing that housed Origin's shrine, and his seal. Maybe Lloyd could convince his father to hold off, at least until Yuan got there. Then they could all walk away from this alive.

When Origin's monument came into view, Lloyd could see his father sitting silently in its shadow, a sword laying across his lap. His wet hair was plastered against his forehead, and Lloyd realized he must've sat out there in the rain all night. It seemed he hadn't been bothered by the downpour; his closed eyes and motionless body exuded an air of tranquility. He looked like he might've been asleep, but when he heard them approach he opened his eyes and glanced up at them.

"Is Yuan with you?" he asked.

"No," Lloyd answered.

"Good." Kratos stood. He stepped forward, toward Lloyd, and reached out his hand.

Lloyd backed up, not sure what he was trying to do. "Wait," he said. "Wait for a while, at least until Yuan gets here. You can't release the seal until then."

"And you're going to stop me?" Kratos said, half-smiling.

Don't be like this, dad, Lloyd thought. Don't be like you always are. Please, just this once, listen to me. Lloyd knew he would be unable to convince his father to wait—for his whole life he had never been able to convince his father of anything. He knew it was going to be as it always had been; earnest opposition with no room for compromises.

Instead of kneeling and begging his father to reconsider, instead of trying to placate him or uselessly reason with him, Lloyd drew Flamberge. "Yeah. I am." Kratos looked at the weapon's blade shining orange in the morning light, then back at Lloyd.

"I'll make you a deal, Lloyd," he said. "If you win this fight, I will wait for Yuan. If I win, I get to release the seal."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "You're on." Kratos' smirk broke out into a full-fledged grin, and he drew his own sword from its leather scabbard.

"Lloyd, don't—" Raine started.

"This is between us," Lloyd growled, raising Flamberge. Both his exspheres pulsed, but in different ways. His right one warmed his arm, sending strength through it, and his left, well, it was up to its usual business. It jolted his muscles, releasing that too familiar anger, expelling any reluctance that may have held him back. The little stone was not going to let its host die, not quite yet, not until it had eaten its fill. Go on, the jewel told him. He killed your mother, he deserves no mercy. Do not let yourself die by his hand. Do not let yourself be weak.

By the time Kratos made the first move, Lloyd was ready, filled with that unstoppable strength. His father came at him, sword tip outthrust, and Lloyd swept it aside, stepping back. The ring of the blade sent a tremor down his arm, alighting his exspheres with an energizing flame. Kratos bore down on him with blow after blow, but he managed to parry each one, sidestepping and sliding back on the defensive. He hadn't expected his father to be so strong, especially after his ordeal, especially since it hadn't been too long ago that he could barely walk.

Undeniably, Kratos was formidable, but then again, so was Lloyd. He had suffered enough, fought enough, lost enough… he had fed his exspheres enough blood and pain to fuel their enormous fires. His mother's pulsed on his right hand, sending waves of energy through him, guiding his sword, arcing the blade up to meet Kratos'. His own exsphere continued to pump his blood with the blinding, black pain that he had grown so used to. It jogged his muscles into action, compelling them almost against his will.

Somehow, the two stones managed to communicate to one another through him, and when he lifted his sword to attack, he didn't think, he didn't plan, he just acted, propelled by the stones. He couldn't help but let the exspheres guide his movements, since each wrestled over him with such power it was impossible to suppress them both. He didn't have time to marvel at the fact that the stone that had killed his mother, and the stone that was going to kill him very soon, were both keeping him alive at this moment.

He swept aside one of his father's thrusts and raised Flamberge, power surging through his arms. He brought it down on Kratos, who only had time to lift his sword in defense as Lloyd hammered down on him, swinging again and again, sword ringing, muscles burning. Underneath the overpowering sound of metal on metal, and below the sparks that flew with each blow, Lloyd could see his father's face, his youthful, elegant mouth curl into a smile. In his eyes danced something grander than fear or hatred, larger than the petty emotions that drove Lloyd to swing down at him. In the split-seconds between clashes, Lloyd tried to figure out what was making his father smile like that.

What's he got to be happy about? Lloyd shouted inwardly, hacking away at his father's defenses. Lloyd didn't know if it was him that asked that question, or the black fire that flowed through his veins. In his anger, his confusion, he just had to find out what could make his father smile at a time like this. He had to end the fight, he had to sweep away his father's sword so he could discover what it was. He needed to know, needed to know now, so that he could take whatever it was and... for a tiny moment, he was unsure what he would do with such a power, and then it dawned on him.

Strangely enough, it was on the other end of a sword pointed at his father's throat that Lloyd realized all he wanted was for his father to be content. It was a baffling moment for Lloyd to fill up with love, but before he knew it, the pain and anger that drove his sword's path disappeared, replaced by the strength of surety. He emptied himself of that black blood so familiar to him, and in a heart-stopping moment of forceful compassion, he twitched Flamberge around the hilt of Kratos' sword and jerked it from his grasp. As the sword soared through the air and planted itself in the dirt, Lloyd could hear Kratos push out a breathy laugh.

As Lloyd rested Flamberge against Kratos' helpless chest, he released a sigh of relief. Kratos looked up at him, eyes shining, and grinned. "Excellent," he said. "I'm proud of you, Lloyd. You really can take care of yourself." He stood, and Lloyd thought it might be a concession of his defeat. Lloyd dropped Flamberge, panting, and smiled back.

"Well. Now I guess we'll wait for Yuan, then," he said.

Kratos put one hand on Lloyd's shoulder, and took his diseased arm in the other. "No. We won't."

The relief and joy Lloyd had felt moments earlier instantly melted away. "But dad," he said. "We had a deal."

Kratos squeezed his hand, sending a jolt of pain through his sick skin. "I'm sorry." He drew Lloyd close. "I need you to stay alive for me."

Before Lloyd had the opportunity to protest, before he could get a grip on himself and push his father away, Kratos lowered his head and his enigmatic wings sprouted from his back. Lloyd felt something like burning light surge through him, filling his veins and muscles, almost pleasant, but unbelievably powerful. Mana, he realized. This is mana. It may have been Origin's mana, it may have been his father's, or it may have been his—he didn't know. But it was soothing, almost somnolent. He closed his eyes, caught up momentarily in the current of life itself.

But the pleasurable sensation lasted only a second; it soon sparked out of existence and a burning agony took its place. Lloyd was seized from his restful passivity, and he began to struggle. He couldn't escape the light, the pain, he couldn't move, couldn't speak. His father gripped his hand so tightly he was sure it was going to break. The current of mana around him was too strong, too bright—he lost control of his body, and felt like it was ripping apart. His vision filled with flashes of light and he went blind with pain. His jaw clenched, his eyes rolled, and he could barely scream as the agony and power threatened to tear him to pieces.

He was lost to the world around him; he could hear nothing but his own tortured moans. His arm felt like it was being skinned, like it was being torn off, cut apart, oh gods, make it stop, please... He screamed inwardly and outwardly, pleading with any god that would listen, pleading with his father.

And then the pain was gone. Lloyd's sight returned, and for a fleeting, surreal moment, he saw a yellow glow coming off of both of them like steam. His father stood before him, enveloped in a halo of light, eyes closed. Weakness overtook Lloyd and he fell to his knees, gasping. For a second he thought this must be a dream, a torturous, metaphorical dream, since when he looked at his father's arm he found that it was monstrous, scaly, covered in bulging green veins. Lloyd dared himself to glance down at his own diseased arm and discovered it wasn't diseased at all.

What have you done? Lloyd asked silently. As his father fell to the ground before him, a tiny red exsphere dropped from between his limp fingers and into the grass.

Lloyd crawled to him, lifting his head in his arms.

"Dad, wake up," he said.

Kratos did not, so Lloyd gently slapped his limp face.

"Come on, you bastard. Get up."

Lloyd lowered his head to his father's chest, listening for that slow, steady heartbeat, but he heard nothing. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, he couldn't see. He didn't notice the massive spirit appear behind him, he didn't notice Sheena approach with her ring held out in offering, he didn't notice his companions step up to defend him from Origin's distrustful wrath, he didn't notice anything. There was only a vast and all-encompassing silence, and his father, lying still in his arms.

"We had a deal," Lloyd said quietly, heart wrung out like a damp cloth. "Wake up." Kratos' mouth was upturned slightly, as if he knew something Lloyd didn't. "You bastard… you dirty low-down cheating bastard… get up." The implication of Kratos' stillness hit him suddenly, like blow to the chest, and he raised his face to the sky, screaming. He wondered if he tried hard enough, he could become air and follow his screams into the distance, leaving all this behind, leaving his body, leaving his bastard father, leaving everything…

"Lloyd." Amid the gales of his agonized cries and the din of the pact-making behind him, Lloyd heard his name and looked up.

Yuan knelt before him, bloodied and ragged, face swollen. His clothes were torn and stained with red, his movements slow and reluctant. Lloyd didn't ask what had happened to him. "Hand him over to me. I will give him some of my mana."

Lloyd choked down a sob, not wanting to relinquish his father, but he let Yuan take Kratos in his trembling, blood-caked arms, and drag him backwards, to the safe shade of a nearby tree. Lloyd plucked the red exsphere up from the grass and scrambled after them.

Yuan shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks. "Lloyd. I will stay here and do what I can for him. You need to go. You need to find Mithos and kill him. Get the Eternal Sword. Save the worlds."

"No!" He knew that whatever had happened to Yuan left him in no state to take on Mithos, but Lloyd wasn't exactly at his best, either. At this point all he wanted to do was take his father in his arms and shake him awake. "I'm staying with him."

"Listen to me, you dumb little bastard," Yuan hissed. "If you don't do it, and do it now, all this will be for nothing! You want your father to wake up and find that the world is still on its path to destruction?"

Lloyd froze, trying to hold in his voice, his anger. Yuan was right, and he hated it. He forced himself to stand, and clenched his exsphere tightly in his hand.

By the time he regained his composure turned around, the din of the scuffle with Origin had died down. The spirit had been subdued and the pact made, and Lloyd had been so caught up in himself he hadn't even witnessed it. He looked up to find Sheena and the others waiting for him, ready to go, bolstered by Origin's strength and determined to end all this. When Sheena saw Yuan, she stepped forward. "Is the mana cannon—"

"The mana cannon was a failure," he said. "Forget it. Forget everything. Help Lloyd get to the Tower, help him kill Mithos, those are my only orders."

Sheena nodded, glancing from Yuan's face to Kratos', then back to Lloyd.

"Let's go," Lloyd told her, and made his way to the edge of the clearing. "Yuan will take care of my dad." When he reached the trees, he turned around one last time. "He'd better be alive when I get back," he growled, before leading his companions into the darkness of the forest.

He strode through the woods, biting his lip, keeping his cries inside. The others followed silently, occasionally looking behind them to see Yuan cradling Kratos, hand hovering over him, healing light blazing. Lloyd didn't look behind him, he only pressed onward, toward the village, toward the Tower, toward Mithos.

* * *

Yuan sat beneath the tree, Kratos' pale head on his lap, exhausted, wounded, and utterly distraught. When he was sure Lloyd and his group were far enough away that they wouldn't see him, he lowered his hand and lay it on Kratos' shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he started, voice raspy. "I was a little late. Mithos held me up. But I guess... I guess we always knew it would end this way." He stared at Kratos' deformed arm. "That was a clever little trick you did, redirecting his exsphere's mana. I suppose he wouldn't have survived it otherwise. Or he would've become... well, it's not like you haven't seen those monsters before. Have you been planning that stunt this whole time?" Kratos didn't answer. Yuan sighed. "Lloyd will be very displeased with us when he comes back." He glanced up to the sky. "We might as well take care of ourselves, at least." He cast a preservative and protective spell over Kratos and himself, and leaned back against the trunk. He thought that if he was lucky, he might be able to bleed out here, against this tree, and not have to face Lloyd when he came back. If he came back. He smiled, cursing himself for being such a coward. "Do you think I sent your son to his death?" he asked Kratos. "I don't. I think he'll do a better job than I ever could. I… for years I kept telling myself that I could kill Mithos, that I _must_ kill him, but you know what? I couldn't. I never could. I put off the day that I would have to face him, face the memory of Martel, because I was too weak. I was weak, just like you." He stared into the forest where Lloyd had disappeared. "But I think your son is different. I think he can do it." Yuan paused, and trembled slightly. The tremor moved up his spine, through his lungs, and emerged from his mouth as a pained laugh. "Who am I kidding? I'm going to die here, and Lloyd is going to die up at the top of that tower. Maybe the world was meant to fall into Mithos' hands. Maybe it will be better for us, if he takes humanity's mind and soul. If you have no will at all you haven't the will to do harm." He glanced again at Kratos' unmoving face. "Some will be lucky enough not to witness it. I might not be so lucky."

He stared into the shadowy trees for what seemed like hours. "Well, old friend. We may have destroyed the world. Not many people can say that they've accomplished that." He closed his eyes, and a slight breeze tickled his skin. "Good luck, Lloyd. Don't screw up."


	31. The Last Visit

Lloyd held the little exsphere in his hand, examining it closely. It looked harmless, smooth, its constant bloody glow now dulled to a dead, flat red. He couldn't believe that this tiny thing had nearly killed him.

Raine was equally as fascinated with the small stone. She hovered over him, watching him turn it this way and that in his hands, asking how he felt and prodding his arm. He had no pain, only a cold, weird feeling in his arm, like it was suddenly naked after having spent months under the garments of the exsphere's strange infection.

"That was a considerable surge of mana you had, when he took that off you," she told him.

Lloyd thought of the stories of the ranch prisoners who had their exspheres go out of control. He thought of senseless, violent monsters, of his mother. "Sometimes… I never saw this, but at the ranch, when they would forcibly remove an exsphere, sometimes the person would… change. They would go insane. They would become some sort of sick monster. One guy said it was the mana. He said that was what turned them into monsters, that ate their minds."

"Your father must've been absorbing that mana and releasing it into the environment," Raine scratched her chin. "Along with his own." She looked at Lloyd's face, at his sullen, hopeless frown, and lowered her head. "No matter. I will ask him how it was done when we get back from all this."

Lloyd wasn't so sure she could. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and turned his hand over. For the first time since they had left the forest of the Treant, he put his exsphere back on. It felt dull, secure, much like the one on his opposite hand. He put his hands together and looked at them side by side. My mother and me, he thought. They looked kind of good together, now that one wasn't trying to sap his life.

He couldn't much rejoice in having gained his time back. He couldn't revel in the fact that he had survived his own exsphere and now could use it as he wished. He couldn't even celebrate the fact that the black hatred he had slowly grown inside him had disappeared, and left only determination.

Colette was still sick. She still might die while he still might live, and that was much worse. He stared out across the field, to the silhouette of the Tower of Salvation that stood tall before him, turning black in the rapidly setting sun. He clenched his fists, and as if knowing that he was thinking of her, Colette's hand slipped onto his. He loosened his fingers so she could intertwine hers with his.

"I'm sorry, Colette," he said.

"Don't be."

"I promise, I'm not going to leave you behind. I'm not going to let you die."

"I know." He turned to her to see her smiling slightly. "Raine is going to start my medicine tonight. She says she thinks she has all the necessary ingredients." Lloyd thought back to Zelos' words of wisdom, his pessimistic warning that whatever they tried, they would not be able to cure her. He stared into the distance, at the Tower's looming shadow.

"Are you scared?" he asked her.

"A little. Yes."

"Me too." He stared for a few more moments, holding her hand in his. "How did you do it, Colette?" he asked. "How did you go on a journey knowing you would die at the end? How come you were always so calm, how did you stand the pain?"

Colette sighed. "I… the real reason I was able to stand all this, get through all this, is because… I love the world, Lloyd. It's given me so many things. You, Genis, the Professor, my friends, my family, my life. It's given me laughter. But…" she paused for a moment. "It's taken many things away, too. My grandmother always said that was how life was. Ten thousand joys, ten thousand sorrows. And it's the sorrows that make the joys so sweet." She wrapped her hands around his arm and pulled him close. "We may both be suffering now, but that will end. Soon there will be joy again. Think of what you'll do when this is all over. Your apprenticeship. Your father. Think of how proud he'll be when you return."

Lloyd's stomach turned at the thought of his father. Somewhere, deep in his heart, there was that gaping hole where Kratos had been, and Lloyd knew that if he wasn't dead already he was sure as hell close.

Colette must've sensed his thoughts turning sour, so she put a hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead before leading him back to where they had camped out. Genis was busy starting a fire, Raine was searching through her bag for something, and Sheena was organizing her spells and cards, preparing for what was to come. Zelos sat back against a rock, staring at the sky, humming to himself. He seemed oddly nonchalant about this whole ordeal, but then again, Zelos was oddly nonchalant about just about everything.

Lloyd eyed him before he and Colette sat down next to Raine, who was laying out her medicines. "I think I have everything Boltzmann says I should," Raine said. "Colette, I want to watch you during your recovery. I hope that perhaps we can learn more about Chronic Angelus Crystallus Officium. Boltzmann is unbelievably vague about the whole thing and I can't find any more comprehensible accounts of your illness in any Tethe'allan texts." She sighed. "I should think that they would have at least a few, being as advanced as they are. But the disease is so rare, so this… this cure may be a little experimental."

"It's okay," Colette said. "I don't mind being experimented on a little."

Raine smiled, then glanced back at her pack. "Oh. Forgot one thing." She rummaged through it, talking to herself, and when she didn't find what she was looking for, she grabbed the whole bag and shook it, emptying its contents onto the ground. "Shit," she said. It was the only time Lloyd had heard her swear. "Where is it… The unicorn horn. It's not here." She sat back and looked around, panicking.

"Well, could you have accidentally put it in someone else's bag?" Lloyd asked.

"Give me more credit, Lloyd," she snapped. "A good physician keeps her medicines organized. No, I swear I had it earlier. Yes, I had it at Heimdall."

"Well, we'll check our bags, just in case," Lloyd said. Everyone went through his or her pack, looking for the elusive horn, but nothing turned up. "Did you leave it somewhere?" Lloyd asked.

"No. I'm sure I didn't…" Raine put her hand to her forehead and groaned. "What a waste I am."

"Hey there, don't worry about it," Zelos said. "I'm sure it'll turn up. But really, think about it. Is now really the time to start Colette on an experimental trial? What about when this is all done? When the world's at peace, we can go look for the horn and get Colette right as rain again."

Raine looked up at him. "Perhaps, for once, you're correct. There will be no point in curing Colette if Yggdrasill gets his way." She looked over at the girl in question. "Are you all right, Colette? Do you think you can hold out for a little while longer?"

Colette nodded. "Remember what you said in Heimdall. The world comes first, we come later."

Raine hung her head, as if she regretted ever mentioning it. "All right, Colette. But please, please let me know if you need anything. If you're in pain, if you need my help, tell me." Colette nodded, and Raine gave her an incredulous look. "Lloyd, if she needs anything, come to me and ask, because she certainly won't."

Lloyd looked over at Colette and she smiled in return. She did have a poor record of complaining, especially if it meant worrying her companions. But Lloyd knew she was already in pain, and that Raine probably couldn't help her much. And he knew she was strong enough to endure it, at least until the world was safe. It pained him to see her like this, but he knew as well as the rest of them that their best chance for giving Colette the long life she deserved was to take out Mithos first, and let the unicorn horn come later.

Zelos, who was alarmingly cool about this, sat by himself, cleaning his knife. When he stood up and announced he had to take a leak, Lloyd waited a minute or two and then followed him out into the darkness. He half-expected to find Zelos with a woman, since he seemed to be so good at miraculously producing them in isolated locales. But he found Zelos alone, some distance away from where they were camped, staring at the Tower.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Whoa!" Zelos clutched his chest and turned around. "Way to sneak up on me."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at him. "You know something you're not telling me. I think you know way more about Colette's sickness than you let on."

"What? No…" Zelos said, sweating.

"Why do I have this feeling like I should cut you down where you stand, right now?" Lloyd threatened, hand twitching to Flamberge's hilt.

Zelos laughed. "Oh, Lloyd, all men think that about me at one time or another. It's just jealousy. It'll pass."

Lloyd wasn't convinced. "What are you up to, Zelos?"

The Chosen's smirk came across as partially honest. "When I said that you guys wouldn't be able to cure Colette, I meant it. You can't. That Boltzmann book isn't entirely correct."

"And you know this because you're the Chosen?" Lloyd asked suspiciously.

"Bingo." Zelos narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't believe you." Lloyd rested his hand on Flamberge's pommel. With his evil exsphere under his control, he found that he could resist pulling it from its scabbard and cutting Zelos down, but it didn't stop him from entertaining the thought.

Zelos watched his hand on the sword hilt, unfazed. "Lloyd. Do you want Colette to live or not?"

"Of course I want her to live."

"Then you gotta trust me."

Lloyd cringed, trying to figure this man out. What the hell was he thinking, and why in the name of all the gods was he thinking it at all? Lloyd sighed, and removed his hand from Flamberge. "Fine. I'll trust you. But if you do anything funny to Colette, I'll cut your hands off."

Zelos shrugged. "Sounds fair. Now can a guy take a piss without being watched?"

Lloyd groaned and turned toward their camp. "Get some rest," he said. "We're going up the Tower at dawn."

* * *

Before the others awoke, Zelos crept into camp and found Colette in her usual place, sitting at Lloyd's head, hovering over him while he slept. Personally, Zelos thought her watching him sleep all the time was a bit clingy, perhaps even a little creepy, but what some may find disturbing others may find endearing. Zelos had had enough experience in love and sex to know that everything was contingent on personal tastes. To each his own, he thought.

"Zelos," she whispered when she saw that he was awake. "What are you doing up?"

"Shh, not so loud, honey." He gave her his most charming smile, and removed what he had been hiding behind his back.

"Oh," Colette's spontaneous grin warmed his heart. "Thank you, Zelos." She took the little package from him, tied in brown paper and complete with a big red bow.

"It's a get-well present," he said.

"This is, um, very nice of you." She looked the package over. "Is it a bottle of wine?"

Zelos smiled. "No, it's much more therapeutic than that."

"Thank you, Zelos, really. But you know, you could've waited to give this to me. Until after all this is done."

"No, I really don't think I could've." She gave him a winsomely confused look. "You need to hang onto that. For dear life, do you hear me? Keep it with you, and don't open it until you know it's time."

"Uh, okay," Colette smiled nervously. "Is it a bomb or something?"

"Ha!" Zelos covered his mouth, hoping that he hadn't woken everyone up. He looked around—all was quiet. "You're as cute as a button, Colette." He pinched her nose gently. "Now, stick that in your pack and don't let it outta your sight. Also, let's keep this between us, okay? Lloyd might feel bad if he knew I got you a present and he didn't."

Colette frowned but stuck the little gift safely away in her bag. When it was out of sight, Zelos sat down on his bedding and watched the sunrise. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, and decided to enjoy these last few moments of peace. This is gonna be one hell of a day, he thought.

* * *

Colette reached out her hand and fiddled with the apparatus that opened the door to the Tower. She struggled with it for a few minutes before calling Zelos over. Since he was the Tethe'allan Chosen, he might be able to open this end of the Tower, even if she couldn't.

Lloyd watched Zelos lean over Colette and boiled inside a little. He clenched his fists, wanting to yank the two apart, but Raine was beside him, with a hand on his arm. "Lloyd. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he lied.

She squeezed it gently. "What are you going to do when this is all over?" she asked.

"I don't know. I was thinking of taking Dirk's apprenticeship. But there's so much more that needs to be done after this. Killing Mithos won't fix everything, so… I guess this is just the beginning." He sighed.

"It's all right to take a break, you know," Raine told him. "After this, I was thinking that Genis and I could go visit our mother."

Lloyd turned to her and smiled. "I think she would like that."

"You're welcome to come too. After all, you did say that you owe her your life."

Lloyd nodded. "Sure. I'll come with you two."

A triumphant hoot from the doorway drew their gazes upward. Zelos did a little victory dance as the Tower doors slowly opened, and he beckoned for them to all come inside. Lloyd walked up the stairs and into the quiet building, followed closely by Genis and Raine.

The Tower was much the same as it had always been. He tried to count the times he had been here, but then he realized that the Sylvaranti and the Tethe'allan versions of the Tower might not actually be the same place. And besides, he didn't have time to worry about the metaphysics of it all; he had more important things to do.

He followed Colette, who was clutching her bag to herself like she expected she might lose it. He wondered why she had brought it inside with her, but didn't have time to wonder very long before they reached the altar and Zelos jumped up onto it, helping Colette up after him.

"Check this shit out," he said, and stood back.

"What shit?" Lloyd asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

Zelos only smiled and waved one arm, and with a flash of bright light, Lloyd realized they had company. Angels descended from the empty air, flanking Colette. She took a step backward, alarmed, but they didn't attack. Zelos only grinned and watched, leaning dispassionately against the altar's glass balustrade. A woman, armored and unfamiliar, appeared with a flash of blue light and landed beside him.

"Good work, Chosen," she told him, eyeing Colette.

"I do my best, Lady P," he answered, shrugging.

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Lloyd what Zelos had done. "Bastard," he growled, drawing his sword.

Zelos looked him in the eye and smiled with something that was not quite pleasure.

"Take her, and inform Mithos we have her," the woman commanded the angels surrounding Colette. Two of them grabbed her arms and drew her upward into the air. She flailed, reaching out to Lloyd. He saw her lips form his name before she disappeared.

"I trusted you, asshole!" Lloyd screamed, raising Flamberge, but Zelos seemed unaffected.

"We have no use for any of these worms," the woman said, surveying the party. "I suppose we should eliminate them."

"After you, Pronyma," Zelos said, bowing and waving her forward. "I'll be right behind you."

She took a step forward, smiling, followed by Zelos and a few angelic guards. Lloyd grit his teeth and steeled himself, his eyes darting from her face, to the blank faces of her bodyguards, to Zelos' smug, satisfied grin. He grimaced, but vowed that he would fight them all off, even Zelos, if it came down to it. He wouldn't hesitate. But he never had to go that far, never had to turn his sword against his former comrade, because what Zelos did next freed him from that eventuality.

Pronyma didn't notice Zelos draw his knife behind her. She never got a chance to react as he grabbed the back of her neck and drew the blade across her throat. In a spray of blood, she fell to her knees, gurgling red. She landed on her side, twitching helplessly, and reached out a trembling arm toward Zelos standing above her. As she drew in her last pathetic gasps for air, Zelos looked Lloyd in the eye and smiled before turning to face the two angels behind him.

But he had been too slow, too confident. The angels, quick to pick up on his sudden betrayal, bore down on him with their spears; he had no time to react. He couldn't even raise his blade in defense before one of the angels struck him through the stomach. He gasped and buckled over, dropping his weapon.

Lloyd, terribly confused and equally afraid, jumped up to help the man he was now not so sure was his ally. Sheena was beside him, cards raised, hollering a spell, and together they made short work of the angels. When the smoke cleared and their two assailants were dead, they turned back to Zelos, who now lay on the ground in a small pool of blood.

"You!" Lloyd shouted, kneeling beside him and forcing himself not to choke the remaining life out of the bastard. "What were you thinking?"

"You bloody turncoat," Sheena said, taking his head in her lap. Lloyd didn't know if she was going to caress him or poke out his eyes.

"Ha." With Zelos' feeble laugh came a spurt of blood. "Every… fashionista knows… you need more than one coat."

"This is no time for your jokes," Raine said. She knelt beside him and covered his wound with her hands.

"Nah, Raine… let it alone," Zelos coughed. "You need to go find Colette."

"Where is she?" Lloyd asked, not sure if he would receive a true answer or not.

"She's… at the top… of… Mithos will heal her. He will… cure. But you… you need to find her… soon."

"Quiet, Zelos," Raine muttered. "I'm trying to fix you."

"Don't. You need… to go find Colette…"

"I can't concentrate with him babbling like that," Raine said.

Lloyd stood, staring at the portal into which Colette had disappeared. He glanced at the bodies of the angels around him, at the corpse of that woman. Lloyd figured this might've been the lady Zelos had been seeing at night, and he grit his teeth in anger.

"Who was she?" Lloyd asked him.

"Desian… lord…" he answered. "She… helped me… find medicine for Colette."

"Why would she do that?"

"So Martel… for Martel. To be a vessel." Zelos threw his head back and hissed at the pain as Raine weaved him back together with her magic. Lloyd left Zelos and turned his attention to the altar.

"Lloyd, where are you going?" Genis asked him as he stepped toward the portal.

"I'm going to find Colette," he answered.

"Well, wait for me, I'm coming with you," Genis said, scrambling up beside him.

"You go with them, Raine, they're going to need you," Sheena told her. "I'll stay here and make sure this idiot doesn't die."

"How will you do that?" Raine asked.

"I'll think of something," she answered. "If Zelos needs to get murdered, I'm going to be the one to do it. Not some dumb bitch and her nameless henchmen."

Raine sighed and stood. "Stay safe. He might pull through if you wrap him up. No promises, though." She turned and followed Genis and Lloyd toward the portal, wiping her bloodied hands on her jacket.

Lloyd got one last glimpse of Sheena bending attentively over Zelos as the portal sucked him up into the air. He turned his head skyward and emerged from the light, into the familiar glow of that strange holy city. He looked around, finding the place eerily devoid of activity.

"Well, where do we go now?" Genis asked.

Lloyd didn't know. He examined his surroundings, as lost as ever, but equally as determined. "Wherever Colette is," he answered, and Genis shook his head hopelessly.

"It's quiet here," Raine said. "Perhaps they did not expect us to come this way."

"Or it's the wrong way," Genis suggested.

Lloyd, unsure as always, chose a direction and went for it. He had no reason for picking one way over another, all he knew is that he needed to move, and fast. He needed to find Colette, get the Eternal Sword, kill Mithos and get the hell out of here, back to the ground, back to his father. Genis and Raine followed him closely, scouting for danger, but the city was as quiet as the Tower. Lloyd had a sinking feeling in his stomach, like they were walking through the bowels of a massive sleeping beast, and they could wake it up by making a single wrong move.

It turned out that his intuitive assessment wasn't far off. He led them between two buildings to a tunnel beyond, not knowing where he was going, but knowing he had to get there fast. He didn't bother to make sure they were alongside him, he just pressed onward until a short yell stopped him in his tracks. He turned, and at the mouth of the tunnel, there they were, trapped behind a translucent wall of yellow light. Or, perhaps more appropriately, he was trapped and they were free.

He backtracked to the mouth of the tunnel and reached out to touch the screen. It gave him a mild shock, and he recoiled. "I'll find a way to open it for you guys," he said, turning back toward the other end of the tunnel.

"Wait, Lloyd," Raine said. He stopped and returned to them. "Don't wait for us. Just go find Colette. We'll regroup with Sheena and Zelos and try to find a way up."

"But—"

"Lloyd. You don't have much time," Raine hissed.

"Yeah," Genis said. "Don't wait around for us. We can take care of ourselves." He glanced upward when the distant peal of alarm bells echoed through the city. Lloyd knew that if they stayed here, on either side of this barrier, they would soon have company, and lots of it.

"And…" Genis started. "If we don't see you again, just know I kinda liked having you for a friend."

Lloyd laughed a little. "I kinda liked it too."

Raine smiled at him. "You, Lloyd, are the strangest student I've ever had. Barely literate, utterly unwilling to learn, obstinate… but remarkably resourceful. And tenacious. Good gods, Lloyd, don't die up there. I still have much to teach you."

"I won't," he said. The violent din of wind through wings echoed above them, and he knew they didn't have any time left.

"Goodbye, Lloyd," Raine said.

"See you on the other side," Genis added, before he took his sister's hand and they disappeared between two buildings of the strange city, fleeing the incoming horde. Lloyd couldn't afford to stand there and stare after them, so he turned tail and ran down the starlit glass tunnel, praying, hoping he knew where he was going.

The horde of angels didn't seem to be following him, so he slowed to a jog and looked around for some sort of hint, or at least a sign that he was going the right way. But everything was incomprehensible, completely foreign to him: the machines, the glass walls and the billions of dancing lights. It was like being trapped in an infinite hall of mirrors, and behind every one was the abyss of space. Still, he pressed onward, following the whims of his gut feelings. He hadn't been wandering half an hour before he heard a faint voice call out to him. He stopped and pricked up his ears, trying to identify it. For a hopeful second he thought it might be his father, but when the voice repeated his name, he knew that wasn't the case. It was young, a little hoarse, soft and calm. It was definitely far away, but it echoed through his mind like one of his own thoughts. Lloyd raised his hands to his temples, suddenly afraid that it would take him over and usurp his own will.

His fear wasn't totally ungrounded. He couldn't get the voice out of his head, and it wouldn't stop whispering enticingly. He couldn't help but follow it, letting it lead him through the halls and chambers of this strange place. He knew who it was, and he didn't know what the voice's owner had in store for him, but he had to press onward. For Colette, for the world. For his father, and for himself. For the friends he had left behind, for all the people he had killed, for his own mistakes, for the mistakes of the four heroes of ancient times, who with the best intentions had condemned the world to a slow death.

He didn't know how he could make up for his own mistakes and the mistakes of those that came before him, he only knew that at this point, all he could do was try.


	32. Martel

Colette stood in the cold chamber, hugging herself, head bowed, as Yggdrasill stood before her. Behind him, nestled in the machinery of the wall, reclined a radiant woman, surrounded by glass and light and energy. Yggdrasill stood between her and the beautiful woman, smiling with something that may have resembled kindness.

He reached out and touched her arm, and she felt warmth spread through her. The horrid pain she had lived with for months suddenly declined, and she looked up at him. "You know," he said, stroking her briefly on the cheek where her disease had manifested, "Martel had the same illness as you do. But I cured her. It's not a simple cure, but it does not take long." Yggdrasill draped an arm across her shoulder comfortingly. "You were clever to bring your own medicine with you. Tied up with a big red bow, no less."

"Big red…" Colette started, and thought back to Zelos' clandestine gift. So, that's why he was acting so weird. She didn't know what to think, didn't know if Zelos had been responsible for all this, or why. She was numb in mind and weak in body, so she only let Yggdrasill lead her across the room, cradling her shoulders almost lovingly.

"They're preparing your treatment now. Soon, very soon, you'll be well again." He stopped in front of the woman, sleeping peacefully in the petallike metal folds of the ancient machine. "Colette. Meet Martel."

Colette couldn't speak. She had been able to guess that this sleeping woman was indeed Martel, but she didn't really want to believe it. Still, her eyes didn't lie to her. Right here, fragile and helpless in her sleep, was the goddess she had worshipped her entire life, the goddess that millions of people had followed and prayed to and adored. All this time, while the citizens of both worlds had been reaching up to her for help, she just lay here, in no fit state to answer prayers or guide the world or bless or condemn. She looked as powerless as any other human, lain in her strange metal casket.

Colette couldn't help but reach out a hand toward her, overwhelmed by the realization that this ancient woman, who looked so heavenly in her rest, was made of flesh and blood like the rest of them.

"Go on," Yggdrasill encouraged soothingly. "You can touch her."

Colette's arm trembled and she held her breath as her small, scaly hand extended to touch the cheek of the beautiful woman. When her fingers made contact, her energy left her, and she threw her head back as something else, something… different, burst through her veins and invaded her mind.

Yggdrasill, no… Mithos held her upright, gently cradling her, as he knees buckled and darkness swallowed her.

She was sitting before a fire, wrapped in a green cloak, watching the flames dance. She raised a hot mug of tea to her lips and reveled in its warmth. Beside her, cleaning his sword by the firelight, sat a familiar man. He hummed quietly to himself as he ran a cloth along his blade, watching it glint in the light. Somewhere above them, hovering over the quiet, natural sounds of the forest, she could hear raised voices echo between the trees.

She sighed and set down her tea. "Do you think I should go out there and stop them from killing each other?" she asked the man.

He smiled in return. "Oh, leave them. It's just a brotherly argument. They'll work it out."

"Mithos does get… easily riled up," she said. "You'd think those two could at least go out and get firewood without sparking a fight." She smiled. "Lately he's been onto Yuan. He's getting jealous. I think he suspects that Yuan is trying to steal me from him. That he's ruining all his plans."

The man looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Plans?"

"You know, Kratos. His plans for… us."

Kratos laughed. "Oh. Yes. Those plans. I know them quite well. Your little brother needs a lesson in subtlety. Always leaving us alone together on the most romantic of nights."

She looked up to the full moon and grinned.

"Martel," Kratos started, maybe a bit too seriously for her taste. "You know you're like a sister to me. Make no mistake, I do care about you. Deeply. But I already know you have your sights set on Yuan."

"Mithos says he's not going to give me away to that 'nebbish drip,' if I remember correctly."

Kratos chuckled heartily. "As if you're his to give away. Haven't you taught him that sisters aren't chattel?"

She sighed. "There is so much I haven't been able to teach him. It was hard for me to… as his sister, you know? I doted on him too much. He thinks I'm his mother, and he's desperately in need of a father."

Kratos set his sword aside and stared into the fire. "It's hard, you know. When I was his age, I was already enlisted. It was that or have a hand cut off for thievery. I never had a father either. But you know how that is." He sighed. "All children of war grow up fatherless. You, me, Mithos, even Yuan, as far as I know. I haven't met one person who hasn't lost someone to this war."

Martel, suddenly cold again, wrapped her cloak tighter around her.

"But…" Kratos started again, returning to the tender care of his sword. "If Mithos wants a father, I'll be the sternest one to ever discipline an unruly child. By the time I'm done with him, we'll never have to worry about him matchmaking behind our backs again. He'll be upfront and honest, obedient, respectful, and never, ever get out of hand."

Martel laughed at that. She wondered if that was what had caused it all, if her moment of derision had condemned the world, condemned her brother.

As if his only mission was to prove them wrong, Mithos did get out of hand. Martel watched it. Years, years, hundreds of years, she could do nothing, as Mithos went insane with doubt and grief. She watched him change, she watched him build a world that she could not accept. She watched the others change too, unable to stop it, unable to close her eyes, unable to die.

She lay there in agony as Mithos built his dystopia. She could do nothing as Kratos slowly closed like a shell, growing more and more silent with each passing decade. She observed his abundant smile disappear, fading over time, replaced by a permanent grimace. For hundreds of years, Martel watched him collapse inward on himself, in torturous slow motion, until the only words that ever came from his mouth were either a gruff mumble or a grave threat. She wished desperately she could give him back his smile, give him back hope, release him from his devotion to her insane brother, but she had no power here, fused with the Great Seed, not alive, but not quite dead either. Poor, silent Kratos, he had no words left when he finally abandoned them and descended to the world below, listless and adrift, like a forsaken spirit. She never saw him again.

And Yuan. Kind, sensitive Yuan, so full of love and desperation, he was the worst off of the four. Even worse than Martel, lying here half-dead and in horrible, helpless pain. Martel knew he tagged along because of his agonizing self-doubt, and his misplaced allegiance to her memory. She wanted to reach out and touch him the most, to reassure him that everything would be fine, but she couldn't. She could only watch as he ran out of tears and hardened, twisting himself into an incorrigible schemer. It was the only way he could survive, surrounded by the insanity of Mithos' new world, and Martel never faulted him for it. But she wished, oh gods, she wished so much, for a world that would let Yuan soften, let him become the gentle person again that she knew he was. A world that would let him love again, since she knew as long as she was here, he would never love another.

When he left Mithos for good, he came to her first, bowing his head before her in her damnable half-sleep. She wondered if he knew she could hear him, if he knew she could see every horrible deed that they had done. He knelt on the floor as if he were trying to melt into it.

"Martel," he said, staring at his hands. Martel could see that he still wore the ring she had given him all those centuries ago, as a sign of her devotion. It pained her to see him cling to the memory so desperately. "I'm not here to ask for your permission. I'm here to ask for your forgiveness." He raised his head. "I've been playing this game for too long. It's time to end it. I'm going to kill Mithos. Because if I don't do it, there will be no one else." Martel had known about Yuan's apostasy and his duplicitous behavior for a long time—she knew that he had betrayed Mithos long ago, and she could not blame him for it. But she could not speak, could not tell him that it was right, that they all should've died thousands of years ago, that it would be the only way to undo the damage they had all done. "This is the last time you will see me," Yuan said. "Until... I return and release you. I'm sorry. I'm going to kill you. You, Mithos, and Kratos. Forgive me." He bowed his head one more time. "I just wanted to tell you, before I go, that I love you. I always will."

With that, he rose, hard-faced and incredibly ancient, and left the room. That was the last time Martel had seen him. She had no other company after that, save occasionally her brother, but she did not want his company. She had seen too much of him—him and his countless victims, lined up one after the other, ready to receive her restless soul but all failing and dying on the spot.

Until this girl. This girl was her salvation, in by extension, her death. This sweet, loving innocent who suffered from the same disease that threatened to take her own life so many years ago. They were so similar, separated by thousands of years but united by the same cruelty, the cruelty of Mithos Yggdrasill. And now they were one. Now, she was free.

* * *

The voice in Lloyd's head fell silent when he entered the dim room. He saw Yggdrasill, tall and elegant, standing with his back to him. And before him, attached to an apparatus that seemed half-machine, half-organic, lay Colette. Her skin was clear and radiant, her face was calm, she looked healthy, fully healed and new. The only problem was that Ygddrasill stood before her, watching her intently. Lloyd drew Flamberge, the blade ringing loudly in the silent chamber. "Get away from her," he warned.

Yggdrasill didn't bother turning around. "Quiet. You might want to watch this. I am about to resurrect the dead."

Lloyd stepped forward, gripping his sword, his two exspheres pulsating slightly. He looked at Colette, so secure and safe in that machine, he wondered if it would endanger her to pull her out of it.

Yggdrasill turned, and in a wave of wings and white fabric, he was the wide-eyed boy he had been so long ago. He looked weak, inconsequential, but Lloyd knew better. "You know, the world has taught me two things," he said in his child's voice. "One: that it is a cruel place, and two: that I have to be cruel to survive it." Lloyd gripped Flamberge's hilt so tightly his hand trembled. "But we don't have to be cruel. We don't have to watch people die. It doesn't have to be like that."

Lloyd looked at Colette's tranquil face and marveled at her healthy skin. He didn't have time to think about how Mithos had saved her—he couldn't forget why he was here.

"You killed Kratos, didn't you?" Mithos asked, not without grief.

"No." Lloyd hoped he wasn't lying.

"You did. I know you did. I've known him much longer than you have. I loved him much more than you do." Lloyd's chest emptied. Mithos didn't even have to throw a punch to wind him. "But it's no matter. Come look at this." Cautiously, Lloyd walked toward him. He noticed that Mithos was unarmed, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. When Lloyd stood beside him, sword at the ready, Mithos didn't make a move to attack him. Inside the silent machine, Colette's eyelids flickered but didn't open, and Mithos smiled. "Do not worry about your father. I have just resurrected one soul, I can do it again."

For a transient, terrifying moment, Lloyd was taken in by the possibility. If Mithos could bring back a soul that had been dead for millennia, how hard could it be to bring one back that had been dead for mere decades? Mere hours? What if he could… Lloyd could finally be with his mother, after all these years. He wrestled with the real temptation that he could have a family, that he could live a normal life, have two loving parents, he could get back what he had lost, right all his wrongs. His heart skipped a beat with anticipation of finally embracing them both, after he had searched and struggled for so many years.

He reached out a shaking hand, toward Colette, toward the miraculous machine, but Mithos grabbed his wrist. "I can give you back your life," he said. "I can stop death, stop disease, stop suffering." He forced Lloyd's arm away from Colette, but didn't hurt him. "I can do it. I can do anything."

For an instant, Lloyd believed him. He looked at Colette, at her eyes, her face, now devoid of any ailment, pure and healthy, eyes still struggling to open. What if they really _could_ stave off extinction, end suffering, bring the dead and dying back to life... His heart filled with hope as he watched Colette's eyes finally open, and her tired gaze met Lloyd's.

With a jolt he realized that those eyes were not hers. They were older, sadder, filled with such pain and regret he had to take a step back, retreating from their intensity. They seemed to be pleading with him, reaching out, asking him for mercy, for him to put them back into death where they belonged. Locked in that remorseful gaze, the painful realization of the necessity of mortality washed over him. This was not Colette, this was a woman long dead, a woman whose body and soul had been lost ages ago, but who had not been allowed to move on to her rightful peace. It wasn't right, it wasn't natural, it wasn't cathartic; resurrection only brought more pain. If Martel lived again, it would only mean she would have to die again. This was no solution, no cure, this was only a temporary, palliative and misconceived way to postpone the inevitable. Abruptly, painfully, Lloyd decided on the essential thing that would separate him from Mithos: he would resolve to accept death, whereas Mithos could not.

Martel was dead, his mother was dead, and somewhere, deep inside him, he knew his father was too. But Colette was still alive. In that body, somewhere, she was waiting for him. He couldn't keep agonizing over the dead when the living needed him so badly. He lifted Flamberge, preparing to strike a blow to Mithos' vulnerable neck, but the ancient hero wasn't going to be defeated so easily. As Lloyd hammered the blade down, it met another sword with a staggering clang.

Mithos' weapon was large, amaranthine and streaked with vermillion. When Flamberge's downward stroke met it, unbelievable power threw Lloyd backwards. He barely had time to recover before Mithos was on him, swinging his massive sword again and again. Lloyd dodged, parried, each stroke leaving him utterly exhausted. The power in that sword was uncanny, unlike anything Lloyd had ever felt before.

He knew he couldn't beat Mithos, not while he had that sword on his side. With a sickening jolt Lloyd realized that this weapon that was about to cut him in half was the very weapon he needed, the very weapon that had split the worlds and would reunite them, the Eternal Sword.

Flamberge held its own against the massive blade, and Lloyd lunged forward, hoping against hope that he could land a fatal blow, that he could finally end this and take Colette home, home to a world that was no longer dying. But Mithos was too fast, too confident, too powerful. And he had a bolstering luxury that Lloyd could not afford: certainty. He knew what he was doing was right, it was righteous, it was correct. And Lloyd, who had been crippled by his own doubt for so long, could not meet Mithos at that level, he could not engage with him, could not win.

Mithos, laughing, knocked Flamberge away, and it flew across the room to clamor to a halt. Lloyd barely had time to move before Mithos thrust out at him, screaming. Lloyd twisted away from the blade, but its edge dug into his left shoulder, drawing blood and sending a wave of pain through him. He screamed and fell, trying to outmaneuver the sword tip, but Mithos was on him, delighted, driving him into the back wall. Lloyd collapsed against it, helpless, arm limp, as Mithos raised his sword to strike the final blow. Lloyd clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the end.

"Mithos…" The voice was soft, gentle, and didn't belong to anyone Lloyd knew. He opened one eye to see his assailant turn, lowering the sword and taking a step toward the glowing machine, where Colette, weak-kneed and trembling, was struggling out of its mouth. She could barely pull herself from the glowing apparatus, barely stand.

"Martel," Mithos cried, rushing to her. "Don't push yourself, you still need to rest. You need to get used to this body."

"Mithos… You have done wrong. You have betrayed me, Mithos. You cannot keep doing this."

"What?" he asked, reaching out a hand toward her. "I don't understand."

She took a moment to examine the silver ring on his finger, stained with blood. "So. You have killed Yuan, have you?"

"N-no," he answered.

"You have betrayed everything we stood for, everything we hoped for. You have abandoned the world, you have disappointed me."

"Martel, you're still a little hazy," Mithos said. He dropped his sword and tended to her, helping her stand.

"No, Mithos. I am fully awake, as I have been for all these long years. I know what you've done. I know all the crimes you have committed with the hope of resurrecting me."

"Is… is it this body? Do you not like it? I can get you a new one…"

With Mithos distracted, Lloyd slowly staggered to his feet. He clutched his shoulder, trying to keep the blood inside, and slowly, slowly made his way toward Mithos.

"No. I'm going to leave you now, my brother. I'm going to go where I should've gone thousands of years ago, before you imprisoned me here."

"You're not really Martel, are you?" Mithos shouted, scrambling for his sword. "You're some sort of imposter!"

Colette's face darkened in pain. "No, Mithos. I am not. You… you are not the Mithos I knew. This world has changed you, this world of your own making. But I still love you, my brother. I love you more than anything." Colette reached out a hand to Mithos, who backed up, pointing his sword at her. "Goodbye. I will see you again soon, I hope."

"Wait, no, don't go!" Mithos sprang for her, but she collapsed and Martel disappeared, leaving only Colette's limp form on the ground.

Mithos hovered over the body, trembling. Lloyd reached down to pick up Flamberge and slowly raised the blade.

"Go ahead," the ancient hero said, still hunched over Colette's body. "Do it." He glanced over his shoulder at Lloyd, holding the sword high, daring him to stab him in the back while he was helpless. "Even Martel… even she would…" He hung his head. Lloyd's arm trembled, and he told himself to just thrust it through the boy's neck and be done with it. Mithos stood slowly, and turned to face Lloyd. He could see tears well up in his eyes and a pained sneer appeared on his face. "I will be with them soon. My sister is waiting for me. Kratos is waiting for me." He raised his face to the ceiling, and gave Lloyd a clear view of his throat. "Do it, before I change my mind and take you down with me."

Of all the moments to hesitate, this could've been the worst, but Lloyd still found himself unable to move. His arm shook, his exspheres burned, and he lowered his sword. "No, Mithos. We can fix this world. You can keep on living."

Mithos sneered at him. "I don't think you understand." He bent slowly, arm outstretched, and closed his hand around the hilt of the Eternal Sword. He slid it across the floor to Lloyd's feet and stood again, raising his empty arms. "Please," he said quietly. For one moment, Lloyd saw no malice in his eyes, only pain, only contrition. "Please."

Lloyd let out a cry and thrust forward, driving Flamberge through Mithos' heart, up from below and out through the back, just like his father taught him. Instead of Origin's light, blood, regular, mortal blood, seeped from his wound and onto Lloyd's trembling hands.

Mithos gave way and fell forward onto Lloyd, his chin on his shoulder. It was almost an embrace, and Lloyd could hear the last whispers of breath leave Mithos' mouth, so close to his ear. He made no cry, no groan of pain when he died, he simply went limp. Lloyd, still trembling, lowered Mithos to the ground and removed Flamberge. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth, releasing a constrained cry.

When he got a hold on himself, he rushed to Colette's side and lifted her head in his arms. He lowered his head to her chest and found that she was still alive, still breathing. "Colette," he whispered hoarsely, "wake up." A terrifying memory of his father's limp body in his arms drove him to tears. "Please, Colette," he cried. "Come back to me… come back."

He held her there, trying to coax her back to consciousness, for what seemed like forever. He kept calling her name, rocking her head, and right when he was about to lose hope, her eyes fluttered weakly open.

"Lloyd…" she whispered.

He cried out and drew her up into his arms, holding her fast.

"Did we win?" she asked.

He kissed her cheek. He didn't know how to answer that, but smiled at her anyway, helping her to her unsure feet. Together, they stepped over the still body of Mithos and retrieved the Eternal Sword.

When Lloyd picked it up, he was struck with such power that he nearly dropped it again. But Colette's hand was there, right on his, and she smiled at him encouragingly. He looked at her clear skin, her healthful face, and couldn't help but grin.

He found it a little strange that he and Colette, the two that had been doomed form the start, were the last alive. They were the ones who were supposed to die, who had been planning for it, who had been wrestling with their own minds on how to cope with it. They were the ones whom the world had sentenced to death, and now here they were, the last ones standing.

He had to laugh out loud.

"What is it, Lloyd?" Colette asked, suddenly concerned.

"Nothing… it's nothing…" Lloyd smiled. "I just don't know how to use this damn thing, is all."

"Neither do I," Colette admitted. "But we need to try."

"How do you suppose it works?" Lloyd asked.

"Try making a wish," she said, "and see if Origin will grant it."

Lloyd raised the sword to the sky, Colette's hand in his, and energy flowed out through the sword and into their veins. Lloyd, suddenly granted all the power in the world, knew he only wanted one thing, so he opened his heart and begged the sky to give it to him. Blue light flowed around them, into them, out through the sword and back into them again, enveloping their forms and cracking the floor beneath them.

Lloyd was concentrating too hard to notice the ground give way beneath them, didn't notice the walls fall away and the very fabric of the universe bend around him, ripping and stitching itself back together. He didn't notice the wings spread from both of their backs, and didn't notice their descent back onto the world, the world that was slowly but surely reuniting. And he certainly didn't notice the Great Seed come feebly to life before him, roots finding ground and leaves finding air. His eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched, his body given wholly to the power of the sword.


	33. The Tree

_(For readers who have already finished, forgive the misleading update. I screwed up somehow and am just reuploading according to the site rules.)_

Lloyd didn't open his eyes until his feet touched firm ground, and even then, when he felt the soft dirt under his feet, he still wasn't sure if what his eyes told him was true. He stood in front of a pool, lit up with a beautiful green glow, so still and welcoming in the windless day. Lloyd wasn't sure if it was really day, or night, or neither, since the sky around him was a soft hue of pink, enveloped in a thick, opaque mist. The seemingly sourceless light that danced around him, lighting the pool, lighting the trees and sky, was thick with an indescribable power. This, Lloyd realized, was the power of Origin. He was standing at the very threshold of a new planet; he was at the hub of an outspreading web of mana, witnessing with his own eyes the death of the old world and the birth of the new.

This strange place, with its overpowering saturation of mana, with its prevalence of Origin's energy, felt like it was beside the world, rather than in it. The air around Lloyd seemed new, electric, almost metaphysical, and as he glanced around him, he saw that bits and pieces of the earth were floating in the mist. He wondered briefly if this was a dream, but his senses told him no, this was just the beginning of something magnificent. He looked around, at the expanse of trees flickering like mirages in the supernatural light. Behind him he saw Colette standing a few feet away, wings shining. She too, seemed untouchable, like an illusion in the mist, so Lloyd didn't dare reach out to her, lest she disappear into the air. She smiled at him and nodded, glowing lustrously in the light, as if reassuring him that everything was in order. She stood on the edge of the world he had known, waiting for him, and when he looked in her eyes, he saw enough life in them to know that her survival meant the survival of the world. He again turned to survey his surroundings.

On the other side of the small pool sprouted a tiny sapling, thin and dark, and Lloyd knew that this was the new Kharlan Tree, the new mother of all the world's mana. But she herself was just a weakling at this point, her minuscule branches struggling to lift their leaves to the light. Lloyd marveled at the tree, the fragility of its birth, the potential housed inside it; this delicate, nascent thing was going to save the world.

Lloyd smiled, but he felt no triumph, no overwhelming joy at his success, only a dim sense of satisfaction overarched by a greater sense of unease. But it was not only his own doubt that disquieted him, it was not the questionable morality of what he had done. He still had one obstacle left, bigger than Mithos, bigger than the world itself. He took a deep breath and glanced down at the Eternal Sword, which he still held firmly in his grip. Origin's power hovered all around him, but the spirit itself was still within him, awaiting his command. He took a slow step into the pool and cold water filled his boot. He didn't mind; it was soothing, refreshing, so he took another step in the water, toward the tree. He planted the Eternal Sword in the mud beside him, calling upon Origin to do one last thing for him.

He sensed doubt in the air around him. Are you sure, it asked, and he nodded inwardly. He was sure. In fact, this was the first time in years he had been so certain of something. He took a step further into the water, reveling in its coolness, and reached a hand forward. Before him, floating in the spiritual mist, were a few droplets of dark blood. He extended a finger and gently touched one of them, and it bounced back into the air like a thick bubble, staining his fingertip red. He knew whose it was.

He turned his palms skyward and spread his arms, closing his eyes and steeling his heart. Submerged waist-deep in the cool water, he waited for that dreaded weight to gently push on him. His arms shook slightly, but he told himself that he was ready to face it, ready to carry this burden. At the call of his heart, the weight came, and his arms wrapped around something solid. He opened his eyes.

In his arms was the body of his father. It was strangely light, even when saturated with the gravity and sorrow of death. Lloyd lifted Kratos' head and took a long look at his face, the face that he had at once adored and feared, hated and admired. Lloyd looked more closely than he had in his entire life, eyes running across the strong nose, the arching eyebrows, the pale, unmoving eyelids. It was a face that had endured the ravages of time and history and remained untouched, that had survived eons of war and hatred, but was unable to survive a son. Lloyd's heart sank, but he walked forward, deeper into the pool, toward the tiny tree growing on the bank of the opposite side. He stepped slowly through the cool water, letting it take some of the weight of his father's body. Kratos' limbs listlessly twisted eddies in the pool, and Lloyd was reminded of the time his father had taught him to swim. He wondered if he just let Kratos go, he would suddenly lift his arms and give Lloyd a playful splash, rising up from the water to lead him to shore. No, Lloyd told himself. Don't think of that. Lloyd clutched his father closer to him and continued his slow wade forward, now up to his chest in the greenly lit water.

When he emerged from the pool on the opposite shore, water dripping from his burdened form, he lay Kratos gently at the base of the tiny sapling. He looked peaceful, comfortable, ready to sleep; the tip of his head barely touched the tiny sprout, his hands lay upturned at his sides, and the mild ripples of the green pool licked at his feet. Lloyd knelt beside him in the soft dirt and ran a hand across his father's face, brushing aside a strand wet hair to reveal his white eyelids, unmoving and lifeless. He bent down and kissed his father's forehead, wishing that he had done so more often when the man was still alive. He slowly pulled away and leaned back in the fertile soil, laying his right hand across his knee. With his left, he slowly removed the exsphere that he had come to think of as his mother, and placed it in Kratos' limp hand. Lloyd closed his father's white fingers around it, praying that it would watch over him while he made his journey to whatever place lay beyond the strange and unsettling world of the living.

Lloyd then reached into his shirt, wrapping his fingers around the ever-present locket. He drew it from his clothes and opened it one last time, looking at the joyful faces of his parents, so proud, so full of kindness. Even Kratos, stern, humorless Kratos, beamed madly with his child in his arms. Lloyd found himself smiling slightly before snapping the portrait shut. He sighed and pulled it from his neck, and gifted that to Kratos as well. He lay the locket on his unmoving chest and let his hand rest there for a while, perhaps waiting for that slow, slow heartbeat to thump against it one last time.

With the exsphere and locket in his possession, there was no way Kratos could lose his way on his solitary journey into death. Lloyd hoped that his gifts would guide him to a better place, a place where his mother waited for him, a place that, after all these years of nomadic homelessness, of running and hiding, they could call home. Lloyd knew his mother and father would wait for him, there in the home they'd never had. He leaned in, chest pained, heart wrenched, and could barely hear himself whisper.

"Thank you, dad. Thank you for everything. Thank you for putting up with me, for caring for me, for..." he paused, eyes watering, "teaching me to swim. And to sew my own clothes. And to blow smoke rings..." A few tears dropped from his cheek onto Kratos' still chest, and Lloyd hung his head, trying not to lose himself in agonizing memories. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to see you for a long time. So when you find mum..." he could barely continue, "tell her... tell her I love her." He stared at his father's face for a long time, wondering if whatever was left of him could hear his feeble requests. When Lloyd lifted his eyes, he saw a white silhouette, long-haired, resplendent, and he thought that it was his mother, come to fetch Kratos for his first steps in his soul's migration, come to guide him into the peaceful reaches of oblivion.

"M… mother," Lloyd whispered, reaching out to the silvery ghost.

"No." The face that emerged from the glowing haze as not Anna's, but it was equally beautiful. It was long, pale, framed in hair the color of a meadow in summer. "I am the Tree's guardian spirit."

Lloyd hung his head again, a little disappointed that in this place between life and death his mother hadn't come to greet him. He stared downward, focusing on the locket that sat glinting on his father's chest, until the spirit reached out a kind hand and lifted his chin. "You have done well. In time, the world will be right again, thanks to you. Peace and balance may yet be restored, if you can provide this tree with the love and nourishment it needs to grow."

Lloyd clenched his jaw, trying to hold in his cries. He looked down at his father, at his limp form, and knew that he would be the first offering to the Great Tree. Lloyd crouched over him, resting his head on Kratos' still shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his father one last time, squeezing him tight, not caring that his father couldn't return the favor. Lloyd's voice was muffled, buried in Kratos' shirt, and his quiet tears made it shaky, but he was sure the spirit could hear him.

"Spirit of the Great Tree," he whispered. "Let his body nourish your soil. Let life grow where he lies." Lloyd lifted his head and looked the woman in her kind, green eyes. "Have mercy on his spirit. Let it be the wind." Lloyd began to sob outwardly. "I know he has sinned. I know… he's done terrible things. But please… please give him peace."

The spirit touched Lloyd on his tortured brow with a slender white finger. She smiled kindly at him. "He shall have it."

Lloyd couldn't thank her. He only gripped his father's limp arm for a few agonizing moments, reliving all those moments he had been afraid to let Kratos leave him. All those times he had told his father to not go, to stay, to alleviate the agony of his abandonment and his terror of being alone. But Lloyd was not alone anymore, and neither was Kratos. They both had their own things to do, their own paths to take.

Lloyd glanced at his father one last time, and his heart settled down. He reached out and gently touched Kratos on the chin. "Goodbye, dad." His lungs tensed a little when he forced himself to say it, for the first time in years, maybe for the first time in his entire life: "I love you."

And then he let go. He stood and turned, leaving his father's body in the care of the Tree and its spirit, confident that the locket and exsphere were enough to guide Kratos to peace. And maybe, many years later, Lloyd would follow him, with his own memories and treasures and convictions to guide him. But not yet.

When Lloyd stepped back into the pool and made his slow way over to the other side, his heart filled with something a little brighter than sorrow, but he didn't know what it was. The mysterious feeling guided him to the opposite shore, where Colette waited for him, reaching her hands out to him. Beyond the glittering shore, he knew everyone waited for him: Genis, Raine, Zelos and Sheena, even Yuan... When Colette grabbed his arms and helped him out of the cool water, the overpowering thickness of Origin's presence dwindled. The unsettling mysticism of the air around him disappeared, and the world finally put the last stitches in its seams and pulled itself together. The pinkish mist cleared to reveal a blue sky, and before him sprawled the reunited world, his world, newly born and waiting for him. He still had plenty of things to do before he joined his parents.

Colette reached out for his hand and took it in hers, brushing his red exsphere with her thumb. It sent strength through him, his own strength, tempered by suffering and joy and growth. It would lead him through this new world, this world that needed him. He stepped forward, a breeze rustling his hair, and he thought he heard his name echo in the wind.

_Keep on living_.

He looked up into the bright sky, a shiver coursing its way through him.

_My son._

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he stopped. He turned, glancing behind him at the pool, at the tiny tree, but when he looked to where he had left his father, the body was gone.

* * *

_Endnotes (edited and reuploaded in accordance to the rules. And stuff.)_

_I thought maybe this crap needed a little bit of an explanation. For the curious and patiently indulgent._

_This story was written in the span of about a month (editing apparently took a lot longer). Most of it was written in the two weeks following the death of my best friend. I was wandering in a stupor for a while, keeping track of how many calories I had eaten since she died, how many minutes of television I watched, how many steps I took. It was insane. I was measuring how the garbage can filled, I was keeping track of what food was rotting at what pace. After only a few days, the nonsensical accounts of tiny events built up so much clutter in my head I thought it would kill me. So I decided to write. I went back through our old messages, trying to find a theme or motif from our childhoods. I didn't have to look long: the last message she sent me was a picture of her mail-ordered used copy of ToS with the caption "IT CAME!" She had never owned the game since I had leant her my copy. We were supposed to replay it together, since by that time the cancer had metastasized to her spine and she couldn't really move her thumbs. I would have to play it for her. But I never did._

_So I thought maybe writing something about it would suffice as an apology. I knew she would find it silly and pleasing if I wrote a fanfiction. The fic didn't turn out quite as silly as it could have, since it was written in a pretty questionable state of mind, but still, it kept me afloat for the weeks following her death. I did nothing but write. I barely functioned, I neglected my classes, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I stared out the window a lot. I thought furiously. I spent hours alone, watching a word document slowly expand. At about 50,000 words in, I thought it would be kind of a waste to just delete the damn thing when I was done. So I thought I might as well post it somewhere. I wanted finish it and release it into the wild before it totally ate me alive. I wanted to get over it and let it go._

_I still find it embarrassingly funny that my method of coping takes form of fanfiction. No one knows I wrote this, and I would never live it down if they knew. But I kind of wanted to tell someone about how it came to be. So here this is. Thanks for reading it—I really do appreciate it. I have never actually attempted fanfiction before and I didn't know how fun it could be. And how easy it was to find support and critiques form other people who have the same interests. So maybe I'll write more. And maybe nobody else will have to die for me to do it._


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